Sarah Williams and the Vindicated Auror
by Fallyn Irlandes
Summary: Being the tale of Sarah's first year at Hogwarts, which she was dubiously fortunate enough to attend during the tumultuous time of 1981. Will contain secrets and lies and deceptions, learning and teachers and students, ghosts and whispers and mirrors, owls and goblins and house-elves, and a shifting maze of stone. Two mazes, come to think of it.
1. Prologue

_June 1982_

 _Cokeworth, England_

 _Williams Residence_

* * *

It was Professor Snape who found Sarah first. She hardly noticed, crouched as she was over Professor Aldbar, whispering to herself. "Harry Potter survived it, and he was just a baby; it's possible; you can survive it too."

Snape knelt beside her and it was the oddity of him wearing Muggle jeans that finally arrested her attention. She tore her gaze from Aldbar's sightless eyes and stared in a dull stupor at Snape in a button down and a crooked black leather coat. His features were somehow softer, even in the dark shadows of her house. He looked at her as though he cared, but with pity.

He looked at her the way her father had when he told her Mum was dead.

"A baby can survive the Killing Curse," she insisted with all the certainty of an 11-year-old girl. She sniffed to clear her nose – her words sounded strange – and asked in confusion, "Why can't Professor Aldbar?"

Snape rested his wand gently on Aldbar's forehead, whispering a spell Sarah didn't know. A soft yellow light flickered from the end of his wand, moving over Aldbar's body — Aldbar — like one of those scanners at the supermarket. Snape's shoulders fell, and Sarah sniffed again. "No," she said.

"I'm sorry," Snape murmured. "He's gone."

"But he— he's a _hero!_ He _saved_ me! He can't— he can't be — He can't!" Sarah pushed Snape's shoulder angrily. "Do something! You said you could put a stopper in death, didn't you?"

And Professor Snape wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her. "Not forever," he said. "And he did save you. That would have meant a lot to him."

To the grizzled old Auror... oh yes, it would have.

Sarah sniffled, turning her head into his chest. A button dug into her cheek and she didn't care. She listened to the flames still crackling around them, felt her fingers digging into her wand. She thought of everything that had happened to bring her here, all the little things from just after her eleventh birthday to now.

It had all started so wonderfully…

* * *

 _A/N: Welp. This is it. I decided to just post the thing because I'm not getting anything done on it and it's been like two years. And what the hey, Camp NaNo. Again. Haha. Anyway. I couldn't figure out where to start, so I figured 'why not the ending'? It's cliche, who cares?_

 _Also. The Snape in this story is different, as you can see. Hello, fanon Severus. Been meaning to write one of you for a while now._

 _And it's going to take me a while to introduce Jareth. Sarah doesn't meet him til she's 15, remember?_

 _Enjoy the story!_

 _(translation: guilt trip me into writing it, please, I'm such a procrastinator it won't get done unless I know someone's reading it)_

 _[July 1, 2016 - datemarking because I want to keep myself accountable]_

 _Further note: This is the beginning of that epic Harry Potter/Labyrinth fic I've been wanting to do for ages. Eventually Sarah/Jareth, because obviously. I won't be bashing anyone in particular, though I sense a frenemy brotagonist relationship with Draco and Hermione, because reasons. Ron's a chess player, though, and eventually he's going to meet- oh, that's a spoiler. I've ideas for the Hallows, and a secret ally for Voldemort, and headcanons about the Underground and how it relates to the Goblin Wars - I have plans, guys, but no idea how to get there, so I'm starting at the beginning. This chapter will probably haunt me forever, but if I never post it I'll never finish, so that's what I'm doing._

 _And seriously. If you want to see me go in a certain direction, throw me a line. As of now the only absolutes are Sarah, Champion of the Labyrinth, leading Jareth around by his feathery Fae hair while the Labyrinth laughs about it to Hogwarts, who is sentient._

 _And if you happen to be from the UK, tell me any errors you don't like? please?_

 _One last thing. I try to understand why all these characters did what they did in canon, and how what I did to Severus when he was 9 changes all of them._

 _Poor boy._

 _(I regret nothing)_

* * *

 _In memory of David Bowie and Alan Rickman. From a novice wordsmith to two Silvertongues:_

 ** _I shall never forget your voices._**


	2. Birthday Surprises

_August 1981_  
 _Cokeworth, England_  
 _Williams Residence_

Sarah Williams awoke when the sun peeked through the curtains she hadn't closed all the way. _Dad isn't going to like that,_ she thought, getting up to close them. Strange things were happening, people going missing and dogs barking at nothing (and growing _mean_ , too, even the sweet-tempered Newfoundland at Mrs. Farwaithe's house) and over everything a heavy air of darkness no one could explain but everyone felt. The result tended to be closed curtains during the day and locked doors at night. They usually locked their windows, too, but Sarah's had broken when she was four so her father had just jammed a screwdriver into the sliding window so it couldn't be opened from outside. Sarah peeked through the tiny gap in the curtains before closing them all the way. But of course, all she saw was just their short lawn, the street, and the house across the street. The streetlamp was off already; she rarely awoke in time to catch the pre-dawn time when the night-lights were still on and the air was cold with the bite of promise.

Sarah glanced at her nightstand and checked her clock, hoping it hadn't stopped working during the night again. She never could seem to keep electronics safe.

7:32 AM.

Hm. She could go back to sleep, she supposed. It wasn't like she ever did anything—

"Oh!"

Sarah whirled from the window and dashed across her room to the calendar on the wall. Her hands trembled as she used the attached marker to cross off the 3rd of August. Then she stared at the 4th, which was circled with bright red and yellow, and filled with a nine year old's careful yet squibbly letters: _My Birthday!_ She'd filled it out when she got the 18 month calendar the preceding June. Mum always said it was important to keep track of time, she remembered.

"Mum," she whispered, staring at the 4th of August. The red and yellow seemed to mock her. "I'm eleven today." She blinked twice and sniffed. "But you know that, right?" She swallowed, glancing up in the way people do when wondering about the afterlives of loved ones who have passed on. "It's the beginning of the second decade of my life," Sarah said. "I hope it gets better."

As though cued by her words, something crashed downstairs, followed by a muted exclamation she recognized as her father's voice. She heard the words 'birthday', 'breakfast', and something that sounded like 'devil-spawned stove'.

Sarah smiled. Perhaps it would be a good birthday after all.

She dressed in the dress Dad had bought her last week, a pretty white ruffly thing with soft green lace trim. Mum would have called it 'quaint', which to her meant 'reminds me of those pictures of the 20s'. Sarah thought it did, too. She braided her hair so it hung over one shoulder—which she decided made her look older after a short consultation with Madame Mirror—and, just because, dug out the shoes she'd worn for Easter. They squeezed her toes a little but they were white as well. She was ready.

Sarah opened her bedroom door to the smell of frying bacon and burnt potatoes. She smiled again—Dad never could cook the potatoes right—and turned right, fingers trailing over the pretty wooden railing which ran along the landing. She descended the stairs in a slight skipping motion she thought she'd forgotten. Another right turn and skillful avoidance of the squeaky floorboard followed by a left turn led her to the kitchen.

Her father Robert was busy, hurrying from one pan to the other and the serving plates. He let out a small cry and leaped for the serving bowl for the eggs. "Evil stove," he muttered, scooping the eggs into the bowl. Scrambled.

"Inanimate objects can't be evil," Sarah said matter of factly.

Robert whirled around and—after a moment of brief panic she recognized as his 'did I just swear in front of Sarah' face—a big smile lit up his whole face. "Happy birthday, Sarah," he said tenderly. "You look beautiful."

She grinned up at him and bounded into the kitchen. He set the bowl down on the counter and embraced her. "You smell like burned potatoes," she informed his stomach.

He chuckled. "Yes…I'm afraid you won't be getting potatoes with your breakfast this year."

"Or ever," she said, raising her head and smirking at him.

"Possibly," he conceded, tapping her nose. "Now go get washed up before I burn the bacon too."

Ten minutes later, Sarah found that the bacon was too crispy, the eggs undercooked, and somehow the smell of burned potatoes had permeated the entire kitchen.

She couldn't stop smiling.

Robert was also smiling at her. Once breakfast was over, he informed her that, 'As the Birthday Princess, you are henceforth excused from washing dishes.' She smiled at him and then her eyes grew mischievous. "For today," Robert clarified. She pretended to pout as she walked out of the dining room, then smiled again as soon as she was out of sight. She couldn't stop smiling.

She didn't want to.

Mum had said that a smile was a powerful thing, and she should always be ready to accept one.

Sarah made her way into the living room to think. She didn't have much of a chance to be in here, most of the time. Their living room was on the outside of the house, and with how crazy things had been lately, Dad said it was probably better if she just stayed in the den.

The living room hadn't been redecorated since Mum had rearranged the furniture, two weeks before…before. The couch was still under the window and the two armchairs by another wall with a lamp and a side table between them. Sarah used to sprawl out on the couch and Mum and Dad would sit in each armchair and work, Mum on her lines for her current play and Dad on the cases he was working on. She spared a glance for Mum's armchair—which would always be Mum's armchair, she decided firmly—and bounced onto the couch. It was springy and slightly dusty.

She'd always been partial to the smell of dust, she thought, leaning against the back and inhaling deeply. It reminded her of her old books, and her eyes flew open and fixed on the coffee table. She fell to her knees beside it and opened a cupboard beneath the surface, revealing a haphazard pile of books and papers and dolls. She rummaged through and pulled out a thick book Mum had gotten her for Christmas.

 _"Popular Fairy Tales,"_ she read aloud. She'd marked her place the last time she read it, and her bookmark was still there. She turned to it, and the next story she had been about to read. _"Beauty and the Beast."_ Her favorite. She smiled. Just the thing for her birthday.

She'd just gotten to the part where Belle's father lost his way in the dark when her father's voice interrupted her. "Hey, Princess."

She looked up at him and noted that he was dressed in his inside clothes. "Do you have work today?"

Dad sat down in his armchair and shook his head. "No. Today it's just you and me."

"Me and you," Sarah replied, smiling softly. It was their little joke.

Dad returned her hesitant smile. "Now, I don't know about you, but I'm pretty sure I saw a present in the study."

Sarah leaped up, book forgotten, and ran down the hallways toward the study, her father's laughter following her. Her loud squeal echoed from the study a moment later.

"It's _perfect!"_

It was, indeed, a perfect replica of Aurora's 'Briar Rose' dress and it was hers. She carefully pulled it from its hanger and walked it up to her room carefully, passing a smiling Dad on her way. She changed into it and twirled in front of the mirror before throwing open the door and going to show her father.

Later, she would recall this moment as the exact moment her life changed. Later, she would realize that though she hadn't yet known, all of her years had been leading up to this particular day.

But now, all she knew was that she was standing by the rail, Dad was opening the door, and an elderly woman's voice was coming through it.

"Good morning. My name is Professor Minerva McGonagall. May I come in?"

Apparently deciding the woman was harmless, Robert stepped aside. Professor McGonagall swept in, her heavy green dress swishing against the doorframe. Robert closed the door and McGonagall took in the living room with sharp eyes surrounded by square spectacles. Her hair was black and pulled into a bun, and something about her entire appearance made it hard for Sarah to guess her age. McGonagall looked up as though sensing the girl's scrutiny and smiled. "Miss Sarah Williams, I presume?"

Sarah straightened, an instinctive smile teasing her lips even as she could see her father frowning at McGonagall's head. "Yes, that's me."

Professor McGonagall looked back at Robert. "We have much to discuss…do you have somewhere we may sit?"

Robert was still frowning—the frown Sarah liked to call his 'brooding lawyer' face, which he bestowed upon those whose motives he was still trying to puzzle out. "Right here is fine," he said, but he glanced at the door as though remembering what was outside.

McGonagall nodded and sat herself down on the couch. She looked up at Sarah again. "Why don't you sit down with us, Miss Williams?"

Sarah felt a little thrill go through her at the sound of her name like that. It sounded so…formal. Her teachers called her that, but never with a kind Scottish brogue like this professor. She found herself at the bottom of the stairs before she knew it. McGonagall seemed to be steeling herself. "Mr. Williams, I wish to start out by assuring you that I am most sincere."

"Words which usually convince one of the opposite," Robert said with a smile.

McGonagall chuckled. "True. I can't think of any other way to state it, so I will let this do it for me." With that, she withdrew an envelope and held it out to Sarah.

"What is this?" Sarah asked, taking it anyway.

"An explanation," McGonagall replied.

Sarah flipped the envelope over. It was addressed to her, though with pretty letters that looked old. _"Miss Sarah Williams, Number 8 Orchard Lane, Cokeworth, England."_ Sarah looked up at McGonagall. "There isn't a zip code," she said.

The professor nodded. "It wasn't needed." That seemed to mean more than it sounded like it meant.

Sarah was interested now, very interested. She turned the envelope over again. An old-style wax seal held the envelope closed, and she traced the large letter H. "Elegant," she murmured. She broke the seal and held back a grin at how cool that was. She withdrew two papers and unfolded them. The first was a short letter, and most of the page was filled with the big strong letters at the top of the page. _"HOGWARTS SCHOOL of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY,"_ she read aloud.

"What?" her father demanded.

Sarah missed whatever Professor McGonagall said, as she was busy taking in the rest of the letter.

 _Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_  
 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

 _Dear Miss Williams,_

 _No doubt you have already learned you are gifted in a way your peers are not. Perhaps you have had things happen to you that you could not explain, or done things without knowing how. Perhaps you are blessed with luck or easily find what is lost to you. These gifts — which may have been explained away as random happenstance — are actually the signs of your latent magic talent. A whole world is open to you, one of magic that you may feel unequipped to navigate._

 _To that end, we are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. The witch or wizard who accompanies this letter will be delighted to explain these to you._

 _Term begins 1 September._

 _Yours sincerely,_  
 _Minerva McGonagall_  
 _Deputy Headmistress_

She looked up just as her father was rising from his chair. "I don't have time for these kinds of jokes—"

Professor McGonagall reached inside one sleeve and withdrew a sleek piece of wood that Sarah instantly recognized as a wand. "This is no joke, Mr. Williams," McGonagall said firmly. She pointed her wand at the table and said, _"Orchideous."_ Instantly, a bunch of bright flowers blossomed from the end of her wand. She gathered them before they fell to the floor and held them out for an astonished Robert to see.

Sarah stared at them. "Is that where my rose came from?" she asked quietly.

Her father's eyes snapped from the flowers to her. "I thought Linda…"

Sarah shook her eyes, still staring at the flowers. "She thought you gave it to me. It just appeared one day, as I was reading Beauty and the Beast."

McGonagall let her arm fall to her lap. "Do you recall any other instances of things happening around you, things you couldn't explain?"

Robert sucked in a breath. "When she was nine she kept putting a teddy bear in the shopping cart and I could never catch her at it." He blinked. "And I thought she'd figured out how to get into my safe when she was eight and found Linda's jewelery."

Sarah cocked her head. "But it just opened. I thought you left it open. I really wanted it to be unlocked, and when I tried it, it was…"

McGonagall was smiling. "These are instances of untrained magic. Our school teaches you to control your magic, and learn stronger, focused spells."

"This is a lot to take in," Robert breathed, passing a hand through his hair.

"Am I a witch?" Sarah wondered.

McGonagall nodded.

"How did that happen?" Robert asked.

Professor McGonagall shrugged. "To be honest, even we don't really know that yet. However it happens, sometimes a witch or wizard will be born to Muggle parents."

"Muggle?" repeated Robert.

"Ah, that is what we call people without magic."

There was a small silence. Sarah looked at her letter again and a phrase jumped out at her. _Find enclosed a list…_ she turned to the second page and scanned it.

 _UNIFORM_  
 _First-year students will require:_  
 _Three sets of plain work robes (black)_  
 _One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear_  
 _One pair of protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)_  
 _One winter cloak (black, with silver fastenings)_  
 _Please note that all pupil's clothes should carry name tags._

 _COURSE BOOKS_  
 _All students should have a copy of each of the following:_  
 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1) by Miranda Goshawk_  
 _A History of Magic by Bathilda Bagshot_  
 _Magical Theory by Adalbert Waffling_  
 _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch_  
 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi by Phyllida Spore_  
 _Magical Drafts and Potions by Arsenius Jigger_  
 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them by Newt Scamander_  
 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble_

 _OTHER EQUIPMENT_  
 _1 wand_  
 _1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)_  
 _1 set glass or crystal phials_  
 _1 telescope_  
 _1 set brass scales_

 _Students may also bring, if they desire, an owl OR a cat OR a toad._

 _PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICK_

 _Yours sincerely,_  
 _Lucinda Thomsonicle-Pocus_  
 _Chief Attendant of Witchcraft Provisions_

Sarah found herself giggling. "I like the names of everything."

Robert gave a soft, quiet gasp, and she looked up to see his eyes widened as he looked at her as though she had suddenly declared she was from an entirely other world—which, she supposed, she had. "Can I see it?" he asked quietly.

Something had changed. Sarah didn't know what it was, but she didn't like it. She nodded slowly and passed him the two letters.

There followed a swirl of questions ("What's a Mugwump?" "Dragon hide? You mean dragons exist?" "A cauldron? Really?") from her father and one or two from her ("Can you teach me that flower trick?" "When do I get to go?" "Do I have to bring a pet? I don't have a pet.") that Professor McGonagall answered all to the best of her ability. By the end of it, Sarah was incredibly excited and even her father seemed relieved…though it may have been the thought of her being able to go to a boarding school out of the way of everything.

But then Professor McGonagall paused. "I suppose…I must tell you…" she sighed. Heavily, as though many years weighed her down. She looked up at Robert. "Mr. Williams, I am sure you have noticed the…unrest lately."

Robert blinked at her. "Yes," he said slowly.

"Our world…the Wizarding World, that is — There are a group of wizards and witches who believe that Muggles should be suppressed, taught their place, as it were." She held up a hand to forestall Robert's protests. "I, of course, know this to be rubbish. My own father was a Muggle. But these Dark wizards… they follow an evil man nearly drunk with power. We are fighting him as best we can, though it is difficult to know who is on whose side. Hogwarts is fast becoming the last safe haven. Albus Dumbledore, the Headmaster, is the most powerful wizard in the world, and even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is afraid of him."

"Who?" Robert sputtered.

McGonagall smoothed the petals of the flowers in her lap. "The Dark Lord, the…the 'bad guy', if you will, has put a particular charm on his name that alerts him if anyone says it. This would draw either him or his followers here, which is of course undesirable for many reasons. He is known as He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named or You-Know-Who."

"If he hates…Muggles…" Robert swallowed around the unfamiliar word, "does he hate witches born to Muggles, too?"

McGonagall met his apprehensive brown eyes with her own sad green ones. "Yes. He wishes to be rid of Muggle-borns, too." She drew herself upright. "For this reason, there are charms and protections around your house that I placed last month. They will alert the Or— a good wizard, if someone crosses the wards with malicious intent, and someone will be here shortly." She looked as though she was hoping no one had noticed her near slip. "I understand you work at a court?"

"Yes," Robert answered.

"We do not have enough people to have someone assigned to you, so I hope you will be able to make do with this." She withdrew a glass set on a fine chain and set it on the coffee table. "This is called a Foe-Glass; it will show you the figure of someone who wishes you harm when they draw near." Sarah could see a foggy mist swirling in the glass. "If you should see someone in dark robes with a silver mask, try to get back to your house as soon as you can." McGonagall turned to Sarah. "You will be safe—as safe as you can be—at Hogwarts, but term does not start for one month yet. It would be best if you remained at home as much as you can."

"Can you promise this will work? That we'll be safe?"

"As safe as I can make you." She smiled as though to reassure them. "If it activates, we have people who will owl us and we can try to make sure none of the other side knows of it. Until September, your existence must be a secret."

Robert ran a hand over his hair. "How long is this…war going to go on?"

McGonagall's face was unreadable. "Until we win, Mr. Williams. Until we win."

 _A/N: ahahaha this is so late i have no excuse none none at all._

 _But it's here, anyway._

 _So, Sarah's letter is different from Harry's, as Sarah is a Muggleborn and Harry is supposed to already know about the Wizarding World. I just kind of made it up, so let me know what you think. But for the sake of nostalgia, I decided to have McGonagall bring the letter personally on Sarah's birthday, which I decided to make August 4th. I think I had a reason for this but I can't remember what it was._

 _Anywho. Chapter 2! Yay!_

 _[July 31, 2016]_

 _[oH! HAPPY BIRTHDAY HARRY]_


	3. Diagon Alley

Sarah and her father sat together on the couch for a while after that, thinking and alternating between staring at the flowers on the coffee table, the Foe-glass beside it, and Sarah's Hogwarts acceptance letter. Eventually they began talking, discussing various aspects of all that Professor McGonagall had said. They were relieved to finally have an explanation for what had been happening to Sarah all these years … and sad that Linda couldn't be here to know it as well. Thinking back on it, they realized Sarah's uncontrolled magic had surged when she was nine, when Linda had died in a terrible accident during one of the actress' plays. Sarah remembered being angry at the world and wishing it would be as gray and bleak as she was, and watching a small patch of flowers and grass wither away and die.

But appreciative as they were of finally _knowing_ what was going on, they were apprehensive as well. This war… it was a terrible thing. Robert was reminded of the Second World War. As much as he wished he could hold his daughter back and keep her safe from harm, he knew she would be much safer at this Hogwarts. McGonagall didn't seem like a liar, and he was usually pretty good at detecting them. She also seemed like someone who could hold her own in a fight.

Sarah was much more excited. A whole new world had opened up, _magic was real,_ and she couldn't wait to discover it. She didn't know if the fairy tales she grew up with were real but now she'd get to find out! On the whole, her eleventh birthday was great. She fell asleep with a smile on her face, her Hogwarts letter folded carefully on her nightstand.

==

 _A woman stood before her, a secretive and knowing smile on her face. She wore robes of a color Sarah had never seen before yet one she felt she should have recognized, the fabric wispy and intangible yet somehow more real than any clothes Sarah had encountered. "Hello, little princess." Her voice sounded older than she looked — but that was wrong; she was ancient in a way beyond years — and though the words seemed condescending the tone lent them all the warmth of a fond mother._

 _Sarah stared back in confusion. "Who are you?"_

 _The woman laughed, eyes which were every color and none at all lighting up. Her laugh made Sarah smile before she realized what she was doing. "I am me, curious one. I wanted to say hello… for now, anyway."_

 _Sarah squinted. "What do you want to do later?"_

 _The woman's face grew serious, her head tilted to one side as she studied the girl. "Oh, many things, little princess…" Her eyes flashed._

 _Sarah only realized then that they existed in a place of nothing, that her feet only stood because she felt they should, when the nothing — not black empty space, simply the absence of anything firm — coalesced into red stone. She smelled the wind and heard the sound of light and sensed a dozen other impossible things in less than a moment. She heard a man's voice raised in indignant curiosity, the demand of a young prince (king) to know all of his realm, and felt the sharp gaze of a nocturnal predator searching nearby._

 _Sarah shivered, and all these things disappeared._

 _(they didn't, of course)_

 _That secretive smile touched the woman's lips once again. "I look forward to meeting you in person."_

==

Sarah blinked awake. _What an odd dream,_ she thought. Strange dreams being a somewhat regular occurrence for her, she shrugged and threw off the covers. By the time she had gotten out of bed and brushed her teeth, she had nearly forgotten it.

A week later, Professor McGonagall dropped by 8 Orchard Lane as arranged. She was disguised as a short blond woman who gave the name Isobel McGregor, which was the signal for Robert to let her in. Sarah hid a giggle at the sound of McGonagall's stern Scottish voice coming from the diminutive old woman before them. "Now then, Miss Williams, are you ready to go?"

"Yes, Mrs. McGregor," Sarah replied. Drat. A hint of a giggle had gotten through after all. She had to get better at hiding those, she thought. Mum always said that, while it was good to know when to smile, it was better to know when to hide one. _A secret smile can make you more happy than a common one, sometimes,_ Sarah remembered her saying. In all her remembering, she missed how McGonagall's face blanked at hearing her assumed name.

"Then fetch your things, lass," McGonagall snapped. Sarah smiled at the woman's attitude.

Robert looked far more serious. "Is all this really necessary?" he asked.

McGonagall's eyes flashed, her faded round spectacles bunching up on her nose as she drew herself up to her new height. "It is indeed, young man!" she exclaimed in a shrill voice. "We have been planning this trip for two months!"

Right. The ruse was, apparently, to pretend that they were a family going off to London for the weekend. Easy enough, Sarah supposed. With all the random attacks, some people were going to London as though hoping for safety in numbers. McGonagall—or Isobel McGregor— was posing as an old family friend, who was hoping to get to London to see her great-nephew before she 'died of young idiots'. They would be traveling by train, necessitating a collaborated story between the three of them.

Sarah picked up her suitcase— mostly empty, as the professor said they would be filled upon their arrival in London— and followed her father and his not-so-empty suitcase to their car. After packing it and gathering the few last minute items, the three piled into the car, with Robert driving and McGonagall in the passenger seat. Sarah settled into her seat and withdrew her old book of _Common Fairy Tales_ to read while they made their way to the train station. She had begun the third to last, _Hansel and Gretel,_ and was wondering how much of it was accurate. Probably none of it. Professor McGonagall was such a kind woman, and she was a witch. Sarah couldn't imagine her ever wanting to eat children.

 _Death Eaters,_ she recalled. There were evil wizards— and some evil witches, too— who were called Death Eaters. Did they…? No. They couldn't. That was probably absurd.

But somehow Sarah found her mouth opening and heard herself asking, "Do Death Eaters eat children?"

Robert inhaled sharply and accidentally pressed the accelerator harder. While he was correcting himself, Professor McGonagall turned in her seat and fixed Sarah with a sharp-eyed gaze that somehow was all Minerva McGonagall and very little Isobel McGregor. "No," she said flatly. "Be sure you do not ask such questions in public at all, Miss Williams. The Death Eaters are a group of vicious thugs who would as soon kill you as hear you ask a question like that."

Sarah shrank into her seat. "I only wondered… how many of our fairy tales are true?"

Professor McGonagall's eyes fell to the book on Sarah's lap. "Very few, if any. You are reading Hansel and Gretel, I presume?"  
Sarah nodded, unable to say anything. She began to wonder how strict the woman would be as a teacher.

McGonagall pursed her lips. "If anything, what is called a 'witch' in that story is what we know of as a hag, but whatever it was, it was either entirely rogue— akin to one of your neighbors being a murderer— or a made up story that has little basis in fact." She turned forward in her seat again and glanced at Robert. "Try to remember that the International Statute of Secrecy has made it nearly impossible for accurate information about witches and wizards to enter the Muggle world, and they have had centuries to come up with stories to explain things that would otherwise require no explanation at all."

Sarah looked down at her book. She tilted her head. She had loved fairy tales since she was little. Ever since she could remember, really. It was hard to think that they were only half-baked stories— like the American Bigfoot, which she suddenly wondered about the true nature of— that might be tangential descriptions of creatures and beings in the Wizarding world, things she would be encountering soon at Hogwarts.  
Sarah closed her book. She would need to be more focused on her new world, she thought.

==

They were soon at the train station, and had their luggage unloaded and trailing behind them as they waited for the train to London to arrive. Sarah took the time to look around, as they were once again in a public place and couldn't really discuss anything. Linda had told her once that she got all her best directing from watching the people around her. _"Acting is living; you're just doing it as someone else,"_ she'd said. _"Acquiring information about enough 'someone else's' to pour it into a role is as much a part of my job as learning my lines."_

Cokeworth was large for a town, but still rather small. And with all the recent activity, the train station was even quieter than normal. Only a handful of people were waiting in the station; a family of three and an old grizzled man and a young nervous woman. Sarah's attention was drawn to the small family. Her mother's words came to her again. _"If you ever find yourself thinking, 'that's a woman', wonder why you did. Was it the way she was standing? Her clothes? The way she pushed her hair behind her ear? There are all sorts of clues everyone gives to everyone else, without even realizing it. Pay attention to what your mind is assuming."_ So why had Sarah known they were a family? It was one adult and two children, and they didn't seem to be interacting with each other much. Sarah studied them closer. The adult, a man about her father's age, sat in between the two children, a girl of about seven and a boy of about five. His arms lay across the backs of the two chairs and the children leaned in towards him. The man's brown-red hair was reflected in the girl's tangled curls, and the shape of his cheekbones in the boy. Clearly a father and his two children, a fact which Sarah's mind had noted already.

Sarah smiled and sat back in her chair. What were their stories? _The father looks worried, and the children look tired. I wonder if they got any sleep? Why haven't they?_ And then the question she had been subconsciously avoiding: _where is their mother?_ Sarah's smile disappeared. _Is she all right? Or… or like mine?_ _No,_ she decided, _they look tired because their dad isn't used to taking care of them. He isn't worried; he's just exhausted. She's probably off visiting family, and they're going to join her. Yes, that's it._

That puzzle solved (solution insisted upon by a stubborn girl used to getting her way), Sarah turned her attention to the nervous woman pacing at the back of the station. _She's wearing a coat like they do on TV… maybe she's a police officer! And… she's off to the city, to solve a big crime. Like why they keep finding people killed and the neighbors with no memory of what happened._

Sarah winced. That hit a little too close to home. She turned to Professor McGonagall and would have called her by that name, had not the blond-grey hair and stooped back entered her sight first. "Mrs. McGregor?" she asked.

McGonagall looked at her. "Yes?"

"How much longer until the train comes?"

"Five minutes, unless my eyes are dull. That is what the sign says, isn't it?" she added in a dry voice.

Sarah looked up at the big sign and noted the time and the clock next to it. "No, it says 'departing 10:13AM'. The clock says 10:08."

"Cheeky," McGonagall muttered, but it seemed to be a word of admiration rather than disapproval.

Robert gave a small laugh. "That's Sarah," he said. "You know, when she was little—"

 _Her first word was 'no',_ Sarah thought along with him. She'd heard that sentence so many times she could say it herself. (and had, at night when she'd had too much candy and wasn't able to go to bed) Tuning her father and McGonagall out, she let her gaze wander over the last person in the train station, the old man. He was facing the window, apparently thinking he could somehow coax some sunlight out of the dim Cokeworth air. It was at least brighter. He wore old clothes that made her think of Grandpa Charles, and American crime dramas she'd seen of the 50's, with the tweed coats and everything. Maybe he was American. What was he doing in England, then? No… perhaps he was simply a former teacher. Maybe he was still teaching. What would he be teaching? Sarah let her mind dither over the man for a while until her father's hand on her arm made her jerk into awareness.

"The train's here."

==

 _The cave was small and dark. A green light flickered as though in a draft. Slowly, in the way that dreams did, Sarah became aware of figures in the cave, without quite knowing how she saw them. There were three women gathered around a pedestal, with four others standing several paces away. All were staring at a low stone column in the center of the cave, upon which a crystal ball was swirling with a thick mist, illuminated with a green light of its own. Sarah thought she saw a glimpse of something in the crystal ball, like a flash out of the corner of her eye. It seemed to be some kind of pointed ear? She saw other images too, flashing almost too quickly to see: a wand, a glove, a piece of chocolate, a four poster bed, a patch of brightly colored orange fur on some kind of animal she couldn't recognize, and many others._

 _The three women raised their hands, palm to palm, and began chanting in a language Sarah had never heard before and could not understand. The mist within the crystal ball swirled faster, thickening. The green light flashed._

 _The images clarified, and Sarah saw herself, seated in a boat with several other children her age, staring up at something in front of them with wide-eyed awe and wonder._

 _One of the women standing apart from the three in the center shifted positions._

 _"She is watching, old ones," she said. Her voice was familiar in a way which made her realize it was the three women who were strange. The four figures standing apart seemed… thicker, somehow, more grounded, as though they were made of something different than the three women, something more solid and…_

 _Sarah didn't have a word for it._

"Sarah."

 _"She turns to another dream," one of the three women said, her voice old and dry. "She will forget this one," the second woman said, voice mature and strong. "As she must," the third woman said, voice young and vibrant._

 _"For now," the three of them said together._

"Sarah!"

Sarah's eyes snapped open. Her father was shaking her shoulders. "Sarah, we're there." She yawned and sat up from where she'd fallen asleep against the window. "That must have been quite a dream," Robert teased lightly.

"I don't remember it," Sarah said offhandedly. "I never remember my dreams." She thought she remembered something about a cave… and a green light. She squinted at the window, through which she could see an illuminated EXIT sign. _That must have been it,_ she thought.

Professor McGonagall gathered her things together. Her image was starting to fade at the edges, as though she were a picture overlaying another picture. The grayish blond hair had hints of black peaking through now. "Come," she said briskly. "We have a short walk to the inn."

"Hotel, Mrs. McGregor," Robert corrected.

McGonagall sniffed. "I shall call the thing whatever I like." Her eyes flashed with mirth— a hint of green showing through the fake Isobel McGregor's blue.

Sarah smiled as she hefted one bag over her shoulder and yawned again. "Oh, let's go, then." She liked this. It was all… secretive. It was fun to pretend.

They made their way off the train and followed Professor McGonagall into the streets of London. It was quieter than Sarah thought it would be. Subdued, calm… _Like everyone is hiding in their homes,_ she thought and realized that was probably very near the mark. McGonagall seemed to know where they were going, turning one corner and then the other with ease. She wasn't acting like an old woman, or if she was she was behaving like one whose limbs and joints were still in perfect working order.

Though Charing Cross station was busy and there were many roads, Professor McGonagall navigated them out of the station and onto Charing Cross Road, which they followed to a small dark pub called the _Leaky Cauldron._ Sarah stared at the sign, wondering how old it was, and if it was part of the magical world, and—

She noticed her father walking past the pub and frowned at him in confusion. McGonagall grabbed his hand and turned him towards the Leaky Cauldron. "I know you can't really see it, but just trust me," she said quietly.

Robert squinted and blinked in front of him, as though not quite understanding what was in front of him.

Sarah looked at the _Leaky Cauldron_ again, wondering how her father could 'not really see it.'

"Sarah!" McGonagall called. "We're going in, not staring at it."

Sarah rushed to join them. McGonagall pushed Robert in ahead of her and pulled Sarah behind her. Inside was dark and dingy and mostly empty, with a couple patrons at back tables out of the light. There was an old man wiping the counter who looked up and eyed them with distrust. "Are you lost, sir?" he asked gruffly.

Robert stared around, shaking his head as though to clear it.

McGonagall reached into her sleeve and withdrew her wand, which made the man stare at her in shock which did not fade when she tapped herself on the head with it and resumed her normal appearance. "I am not lost, Tom," she said.

The barman relaxed, though only a bit. "McGonagall!" he exclaimed. "Whaddya want?"

"Simply a pass for myself and one of my first-years, and her father," McGonagall said while gesturing to Sarah and Robert.

Tom blinked at them for a moment. "Of course, of course! Muggle-born, I see. Just be careful. There's… well, you know what's about."

McGonagall pressed her lips together as Tom said the word 'Muggle-born', and Sarah noticed a few of the people in the pub look towards them. It was too dark to make out their faces distinctly, but she thought they seemed curious and almost hostile. Was that because of the Dark Lord? And the other… what did McGonagall call them? Pure-bloods? "This way, Sarah," McGonagall prodded, again guiding Robert in front of her. Sarah found it difficult to keep her suitcase from banging into the tables, and winced as it smacked into a chair. "Watch it," one of the people at a nearby table growled.

"Sorry," she said, nearly stumbling over her legs to get past. She followed her father and Professor McGonagall through a door in the back and found herself in a small courtyard. McGonagall walked over to a brick wall with a purpose Sarah couldn't imagine.

"Beyond this point," Professor McGonagall said, "there is a whole Wizarding area, which I have told you about. Diagon Alley is the place we must go to purchase your school supplies. You-Know-Who may have any number of supporters here, so it would be wise to keep your head down. They aren't likely to attack in broad daylight, here of all places, but you can never be too certain. Should anything happen, stick with me." She waited for Sarah and Robert's nod of assent, and once she had received it, turned to the brick wall. She tapped a certain brick on the wall and stood back as though expecting something.

Sarah opened her mouth to ask what it was when the bricks began shifting and sliding to the side, creating first a hole and then an arch. Sarah's mouth stayed open. Magic, she thought. Her father gasped beside her. "That's incredible," he murmured.

McGonagall's lips twitched.

Bright flags and swaying signs drew Sarah's eye beyond the brick archway and into Diagon Alley beyond. She saw what looked like miles of shops and stores, stretching along the hidden alley and curving out of view. She could see signs like _Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour,_ _Madame Malkin's Robes For All Occasions,_ and _Potage's Cauldron Shop_. Sarah's eyes widened.

 _This place is wonderful! Like a dream!_

"It looks pretty dead," Robert commented.

Sarah looked closer and realized with a sinking heart that her father was right. The streets were nearly bereft, people darting from shop to shop as quickly as they could. Parents herded their children closely and seemed to be unable to go without keeping at least one hand on them at all times. The signs were the only way she could tell what shop was what; the signs were all papered over with purple posters and what looked like black and white newspapers, but with moving photographs. She caught huge bold letters with sensational titles.

DARK MARK SPOTTED OVER KENSINGTON

YOU-KNOW-WHO STILL AT LARGE

MINISTER GRANTS AURORY FURTHER WAR POWERS

"It is usually much more… colorful," McGonagall said sadly. "Perhaps one day you will see Diagon Alley in its true glory."

After shrinking their suitcases with a swish of her wand and observing with amusement as Sarah put hers in her pocket and withdrew it in fascination several times, Professor McGonagall led them to Gringotts Wizarding Bank. Sarah wanted to linger and peek past the posters bearing Ministry of Magic Security Advice into the shop windows, but Professor McGonagall pulled her and Robert along, saying they needed to get their money first of all. At a juncture in the street, a tall impressive building made of snow-white marble rose into the air. A set of white stairs led up to two bronze doors, guarded on each side by two small creatures about a head shorter than Sarah. She tried not to stare but found it difficult. They had dome shaped heads, long pointed ears, and piercing eyes. She got the impression that they were much more intelligent than she was, though she wasn't sure how she knew that. She caught the eye of one and looked away quickly, focusing instead on their scarlet and gold uniforms.

The four creatures studied them with a calm, imperturbable air about them as McGonagall approached. "Greetings," she said politely. "May we pass?"

The two creatures closest to the doors glanced at each other and then back to her. "Name and business?" the one on the left asked in a gruff voice.

"Professor Minerva McGonagall, with Sarah and Robert Williams, here to open an account for Sarah." This seemed to put all four creatures at ease, and the two near the doors pressed their hands against them, causing them to swing open on silent hinges. "Thank you," McGonagall said as she strode forward once more.

"Thank you," Sarah said in a small voice, not sure who to direct her thanks to so she ended up addressing the vague direction of the two on the left. They seemed surprised for some reason, perhaps that she would talk to them. She decided not to think about it, as inside was a smaller entrance hall with another set of doors, these made out of silver. Engraved into the silver doors was what looked like a poem:

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_  
 _Of what awaits the sin of greed_  
 _For those who take, but do not earn,_  
 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._  
 _So if you seek beneath our floors_  
 _A treasure that was never yours,_  
 _Thief, you have been warned, beware_  
 _Of finding more than treasure there._

"What sort of punishments?" Robert asked.

Professor McGonagall paused in the act of opening the silver doors. "The goblins have many security devices and traps in the vaults. Some will trap the would-be thief in the vault they had been attempting to rob, and the goblins will eventually find them when they check… in about a decade."  
Robert whistled. "Seems harsh, but effective."

"Goblins?" Sarah repeated. "Is that what they are?"

"Yes," McGonagall said, seeming surprised. "I'm sorry; I thought I told you."

Sarah tried to remember, pushing away the stray thought of _But they aren't_ my _goblins._ "I think you might have, I just—" she broke off as the silver doors opened and an enormous wide hall was revealed. The floor was tiled marble, black and white, with long counters stretched along the walls with about a hundred creatures— goblins— sitting at them. Like everywhere else lately, the bank did not seem to be that busy, but it had an expectant air about it, like at any moment it could be, could be filled with wizards and witches entering to withdraw money or deposit it, and exiting to spend it on purchases in Diagon Alley. Gringotts bank seemed like something of a safe haven, almost, as though the war Sarah had found out about two weeks ago did not exist within these walls.

Sarah would later realize that she had connected _Gringotts_ with _impregnable,_ and _goblins_ with _safe_. Of the associations, one was correct and one…could be. Possibly. With the right goblins.

She had fallen behind again. She trotted to catch up to Professor McGonagall. The halls seemed to echo, and through the many doorways in the walls, Sarah could hear what sounded like echoing footsteps. Some were bigger or louder than others, and she wondered if some were made by goblins and others were made by witches and wizards. "Sarah," McGonagall said in a quieter voice. She had fallen behind yet again. She hurried up and held her father's outstretched hand and walked beside him.

Professor McGonagall led them up to one of the counters, where a goblin looked down at them from a high stool. He had skin that was more pale than the other goblins, a whiter peach that made Sarah wonder if he spent all his time inside. Maybe right at that counter.

Business seemed pretty straightforward. They gave their names and Robert passed over their money which was to be converted into wizarding money and then stored in the newly made Williams Family Vault. Even Robert looked impressed by the sound of that.

Then they were back out in Diagon Alley, the new wizarding coins jingling in their pockets. McGonagall explained the money system to them. The smallest coins were made of bronze and called Knuts, the next larger denomination were made of silver and called Sickles, and the largest coins were made of gold and called Galleons. There were 9 Knuts to a Sickle and 17 Sickles to a Galleon.

Sarah thought it all fascinating.

Even the tense and dreary air of Diagon Alley could not dampen her excitement. She was in a whole new world, and she had whole new money to buy things like robes, and a cauldron, and a wand…

"You all right, Princess?" her father asked gently.

She looked up at him in surprise. "Yes! It's all so wonderful."

He smiled in half relief. "You were squeezing my hand pretty tight for 'wonderful'."

She relaxed her grip. "Sorry. I'm just excited."

Professor McGonagall smiled at them both. "Yes. Well, first things first." She set her face towards Potage's Cauldron Shop.

Sarah thought she should probably hide her smile, but figured it would just keep coming back anyway.

They purchased her cauldron and visited the Apothecary, where Sarah acquired her very first set of crystal phials (deciding against the cheaper glass set, as she liked both the sound of the word crystal and the way it looked better). After that was Flourish and Blotts, where she bought the 8 books needed for that school year.

"Am I going to be taking only eight classes?" she asked, caressing the spine of A History of Magic while her father struggled with the proper way to carry a cauldron full of eight books and a set of phials.

McGonagall shook her head. "No, you will be taking seven classes in your first year, though flying lessons are mandatory for first-years."

"Flying?" Sarah repeated in excitement. A family nearby shrank back from the noise which was much louder than any of the other muted conversations being held in the alley and looked at her in disapproval and alarm, as though she had just summoned the Dark Lord himself.

"Yes, on a broomstick."

"Wow… like a real witch," Sarah murmured to herself.

Professor McGonagall stopped. "You are a real witch," she said, staring straight at Sarah. "You were born a witch, and a witch you shall remain, no matter what anyone else says, or how well you do in school, or how well you fly."

Sarah nodded. It was a strange conversation. Two weeks ago she had been dressing up as Briar Rose.

Next stop was Wiseacres Wizarding equipment, where she got a telescope and a set of brass scales. Professor McGonagall performed a charm on her pewter cauldron which made it as light as a feather, or so Robert claimed. Of course, Sarah had to try lifting it and then decided to carry the whole thing by herself as they made their way to Madame Malkin's.

Madame Malkin was a kind-looking witch, busy helping a witch buy robes for an older boy with blond hair and a wide smile.

"Hello," he greeted Sarah. "I am Gilderoy Lockhart." This seemed to be an important fact, the reason for which escaped Sarah.

"I'm Sarah Williams," she said.

"First-year?" he asked, shifting as Madame Malkin pinned up the robe she was fitting on him.

Sarah nodded, attention momentarily drawn by a robe which seemed to be ironing itself.

"I'm a seventh year," Lockhart boasted. "After this, it will be out into the wide, wide world to make my fortune!" He laughed as though he had said something quite clever and Sarah chuckled self-consciously.

Madame Malkin finished pinning his new robes, which were a startling shade of lilac, and drew a wand from somewhere and waved it, which seemed to stitch them together in the correct size. She then said another charm, causing the robes to take themselves off and fold onto a pile of other robes. Sarah saw at least three colors, two shades of blue and one emerald green.

"I'm a Ravenclaw, you know," Lockhart said as though they had been talking for years. "That's the smartest House in Hogwarts."

Professor McGonagall had her lips pressed into such a firm line that they were nearly invisible.

Sarah remembered her saying something about Houses. There were four in the school, and you were Sorted into one based on your traits. So Gilderoy Lockhart must be pretty smart, then.

"If you are fortunate enough to be Sorted into my House, I volunteer my services as a guide and counselor. Hogwarts can be a confusing school, sometimes."

"That's…kind of you," Sarah said hesitantly. This seemed to be the right thing to say, for Lockhart beamed brightly as he and his mother exited the shop.

Madame Malkin and Professor McGonagall heaved nearly identical sighs of relief. "Last year," Madame Malkin said with a grin.

"Indeed," McGonagall said with an eye on Sarah.

Madame Malkin turned a warm smile on the girl. "Well now. You must be Muggle-born; I always love fitting you. Come on, step up on the stool here." Sarah passed her cauldron to Robert, who was studying a set of wizards robes with a furrowed brow, and stepped onto the stool.

Her robes (three, all black, as specified) were soon fitted, as were her cloak and hat. Professor McGonagall helped her choose her dragon-hide gloves and after buying her new clothes, she shrunk them down and stored them in her cauldron.

"Thank you, Madame Malkin," Sarah called as they exited. She could see the witch smiling fondly at her.

McGonagall seemed excited about something. "Now for your last stop," she said, rubbing her hands together. "Ollivander's Wand Shop."

Ollivander's Wand Shop was a small, dusty store. Piles of long skinny boxes stacked up to the ceiling, and there was a fine layer of dust over everything. An old man was standing at the counter, facing away from them. Sarah thought he looked familiar, though could not say why. Another old man, kind and intelligent-looking, stood behind the counter, nodding thoughtfully.

"Burst into flames?" he asked, rubbing his chin.

The old man nodded. "Aye. Didn't like the thought of Summoning my last bottle of Ogden's, apparently." The man's voice was gruff and made Sarah think of an old bear.

"That wand chose you when you were eleven, Valerius? 10 inches, sycamore, core of unicorn hair, slightly springy, if I recall correctly."

Valerius nodded. "Aye, Garrick; your mind's as fast as ever. It worked fine for me through school and the Aurory, but…"

"Lately you've been settling down, staying out of the way," Ollivander summed up. Sarah got the impression he knew all these things already. The wandmaker turned and studied the piles of boxes for a moment. "Here," he said, and pulled out one box. "Try this."

Valerius opened the box, revealing a smooth, light-colored wand. He gave it a swish and shook his head.

Ollivander nodded as though he had expected this and set the wand aside, withdrawing another box. This was also rejected. Ollivander somehow pulled one box from the middle of a stack without knocking it over— years of practice, Sarah thought— and presented it to Valerius.

As soon as he touched it, he relaxed. The wand let out a small shower of sparks and Ollivander smiled. "Cedar and dragon heartstring, 12 inches, stiff. I think that will work very well for you." Valerius reached into his pocket, presumably to withdraw the coins necessary to pay for the wand, but Ollivander held up a hand. "No, no. This one is a gift, I think. You… and your students… are going to need it. Let it serve you well, Valerius."

Valerius let his hand fall to his side, caressing his new wand almost absently. "Thank you, Garrick," he said quietly. He turned to leave and Sarah gasped.

"You're the old man from the train station!"

It was indeed. Once she had connected the word wizard to him, his grizzled hair and pale blue eyes seemed to suit him. His clothes were still tattered, but now were old robes instead of what he had worn before.

Valerius raised his head in surprise. His face relaxed slightly when he saw Sarah, Robert, and McGonagall. "And you're the little girl from the station," he said, lips twitching slightly. "I thought there was something about you." He met McGonagall's eyes. "And I suppose you're that old woman?"

"I'm not old yet, Valerius Aldbar," McGonagall replied primly.

Valerius chuckled. "Of course, of course. I thought you moved too quickly for an old woman." He began making his way out of the shop and glanced once again at Sarah. "I look forward to teaching you," he said softly.

"He's going to be teaching?" Sarah asked McGonagall.

"Yes, he's going to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year. Valerius Aldbar was once an Auror, you know, and came out of retirement to teach." She seemed as though she had something else to say, but shook her head and approached Ollivander.

"What is an Awe-ror?" Robert asked, sounding out the unfamiliar word. "I think you mentioned it before."

"Auror," Professor McGonagall corrected. "They are an elite band of wizards and witches who are responsible for investigating crimes related to the Dark Arts and capturing Dark wizards and witches."

"So like police officers, then?"

Sarah ignored their conversation, staring up at the old wandmaker. He looked back at her, eyes sharp and glittering with some thought. He opened his mouth as though to say something but then shook his head, reaching for a box near his hand. "Try this one," he said, handing the box to her. She carefully opened the box. Inside a rich red wand lay on a velvet case. She withdrew it reverently and held it up.

A real wand!

"No," Ollivander murmured, arresting her attention. He rubbed his fingers together. "You'll know when a wand chooses you, Miss… you know, I don't believe I caught your name." The shop seemed very old suddenly, ancient, and the wandmaker powerful in a way only revealed by a lack of something. As she had no idea what that something could be, she ignored all of that and swept him a little curtsey.

"Sarah Williams," she replied, setting the wand back inside the case and closing the box. Something he said struck her and she looked up at him. "The wand chooses me? It can think?"

Ollivander chuckled. "Not quite, Miss Williams. They have a degree of sentience, to be sure," he mused as he dug through a stack of boxes. "A wand will learn just as you are, and become attuned to your particular brand of magic." He returned to the counter with a handful of boxes. "Perhaps this one, a fine holly and unicorn wand."

Sarah knew her eyes had probably bulged unattractively. "Unicorn?" she repeated.

"Yes, this wand has a core made of unicorn hair." Sarah held the wand but again felt nothing. She frowned in disappointment. "No matter," Ollivander said cheerfully. "Try this." After that one, too, proved a wrong match he abandoned the pile of boxes and pulled one off the top of a stack nearby. "This one," he said, handing her the box. "I made it a couple weeks ago; 10 1/2 inches redwood and dragon heartstring core, reasonably pliant."

Sarah opened the lid and smiled in appreciation of the beautiful reddish brown wand. She lifted it out of the box and it let out a shower of sparks from the tip. "Oh," she breathed out in wonderment.

"Ah. It has chosen you," Ollivander said, in a way that made Sarah think he had had this wand in mind since she stepped foot in the shop. She looked up at him, still vaguely smiling. He was studying her with a smile but a small furrow in his brow. "It has chosen you," he repeated, as though this were significant. He shook off whatever thoughts plagued him and proclaimed, "You will have a fine year — that is a good wand."

Sarah caught a whiff of wool and cinnamon and felt McGonagall's robes brush against her ankles. "A fine wand indeed," the professor announced. "Seven Galleons?"

Ollivander nodded and Robert dug the proper coins out of his pocket and paid the old wandmaker. Sarah ran her fingers over her wand— her own wand— and felt as though she were on the top of a cliff, ready to leap off and simply soar. The world was ahead of her and she couldn't wait.

 _A/N: So here it is, August 27th. I am so terrible at updating I need to fix that. Anyway. Sarah's introduction to Diagon Alley is of course quite different from the peaceful experience of Harry ten years later. Also, Lockhart! I did a bit of digging and found out his last year was the 1981-2 year! Funny coincidence, that. There's another surprise next chapter, I think. Sarah's going to have quite the reaction to discovering him teaching in Harry's second year._

 _Wand lore: I did_ a lot _of digging on Pottermore and came to the conclusion that this wand fit 11 year old Sarah best. (Fascinating nugget: sycamore wands really will burst into flames if their owner doesn't use them.) I'm planning on her second year answering the question of Ollivander's strange reaction to her._

 _I received a request for Jareth to make an appearance soon, and as I also want that, I figured I'd stick a tiny cameo in while I decide to write the story I really wanted later; this is all mostly backstory, come to think of it._

 _This chapter was interesting. I apparently decided to introduce or vaguely mention many key players, all at once. Not quite sure why._

 _Sarah's first interaction with the Gringotts goblins is always - in the approximately 13 crossover fanfics that exist - always important, her being Champion of the Labyrinth and the chosen one of the Goblin King and all that. But here she's only 11, only dreaming of the Labyrinth at this point. She and the goblins are aware of some connection between them, but Sarah has no experience with this kind of instinct and the Goblins may simply assume it's to do with her being a Muggle-born in the middle of Voldemort's War._

 _Speaking of the war, I figured in the midst of increasingly violent Muggle-born attacks, Dumbledore would probably assign a competent wizard or witch he trusted to escort the lil baby Muggle-borns. Professor McGonagall likely agreed without question. She likes Sarah's spirit, I think._

 _(Oh... I just imagined who he'd send with one of my other OC's here. I like it. thank u, brain.)_

 _Also, one reviewer (who is amazing, btw) asked if Snape taught_ after _Voldemort had been defeated, meaning 1982. I thought so too, until I spent several hours on the Harry Potter wikia site and found him listed as teaching 1981-1998. Also, he was chosen (by both Dumbledore and Voldemort) to teach at Hogwarts so he could keep an eye on Dumbledore. I assume this had to have happened before Voldemort died, and after he did and Dumbledore was all 'ha nope he's not dead noooope' canon Snape kept the job he apparently hated for his upcoming role as Spy At Hogwarts (Reprise) whenever Harry reappeared._

 _Also, this means he's 21. I'm not sure if there are several levels of Adulting in the Wizarding World like there are in ours (a quinceanera, Sweet Sixteen, 18, 21, 25-aka-when-you-can-rent-a-car-and-also-your-insurance-cost-goes-down, etc) but I think he'd be wondering what to do with his life even if there wasn't a war going on. Why not teach? My Severus is a bit softer than in canon, for a few reasons. I find him fascinating and I'll probably be giving him a couple Pov scenes somewhere down the line._

 _But anyway. I'm pretty sure he started teaching September of '81._

 _(also, I wanted him, the future Head of Slytherin House (and possibly like, the Only Slytherin Teacher Other Than the Vaguely Mentioned Aurora Sinistra, Possibly) to interact with a good Slytherin. I may or may not have created Aldbar with the idea of having someone Severus could look up to, someone whose example he could follow when he takes over. I needed Severus and Sarah to have a connection so I figured having them both start this chapter of their lives together would work._

 _I think that's it, this is starting to ramble a bit. If you got this far, thank you. :) Let me know of what you think, and how I'm doing with canon?_

 _(How is McGonagall? This is Vital. McGonagall is Important. I need to get her right.)_


	4. New Friends and Old Prejudices

The next two weeks were busy. Robert threw himself into his work, moving to and from the old mill which he was still trying to get the previous owner of to sell the property to a local business, and from the mill to his offices in the better part of Cokeworth, and from there back to 8 Orchard Lane, where he piled all his work on the table and part of the floor in his study. Sarah dove into her books, beginning with _A History of Magic,_ which she found fascinating and the source of a good many stories. Wendelin the Weird became one of her new heroines, and Sarah would mime being tied to the closest thing she had to a stake -her bedpost- and casting a Flame Freezing Charm and escaping to the consternation of gathered Muggles. Her father walked in on her once and blinked several times as she froze in the act of struggling to free herself from imaginary bonds. After that, she moved on to _The Standard Book of Spells._ To her disappointment, it did not contain the Flame-Freezing charm, but it did contain many other spells she would have tried, had it not been for Professor McGonagall's stern warnings (and firm relating of the fact that performing magic anywhere outside Hogwarts while she was still underage was, in fact, illegal.)

 _Magical Theory_ informed Sarah that spells were about intent as much as saying the incantation correctly, but that new spells, jinxes, and curses which were cast without knowledge of the effects would be cast with the intent of the creator and the words chosen for the spell.

Having remembered that Professor McGonagall was the Transfiguration Mistress at Hogwarts, Sarah opened up _A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration_ with hopes of learning everything by the time she started, so as to impress the woman who had been so kind to her in introducing this world to her. It was more complicated than it seemed, however, and Sarah laid it aside for the next book which caught her interest, _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._

After that, the sight of Sarah rolling out of bed, shrieking, "A Lethifold's got me!" was a common occurrence most mornings. (Her father gave her a stern talking-to and reminder of the Boy Who Cried Wolf, and mostly ignored her protests that Lethifolds only lived in the tropics as irrelevant)

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ was, Sarah decided, a bore. However interesting a potion named the Wide-eye Potion —which at first she thought enlarged the victim's eyes to the size of _magical croquet balls_ \- she figured she could also learn enough about potions once she got to Hogwarts. She wondered who the Potions teacher was going to be.

 _The Dark Forces: A guide to Self-Protection_ was far more interesting, with different spells one could use in defense, and a list of a few Dark creatures and methods of avoiding them. Among the Dark creatures listed was the hag, which Sarah read with interest as to how it compared with the fairy tales she had grown up with. She found they did indeed seem to be the evil witches from the stories, but the book didn't have much on how they differed. She also learned about werewolves and vampires and Red Caps.

All told, her favorite books were _A History of Magic_ and _Fantastic Beasts,_ and her dreams became filled with images based on their descriptions and abilities. She dreamed of dueling a Red Cap for her crystal phials which had become more round and rolled into the Red Cap's hole underground. She dreamed of long miles walked underground, which she thought was inspired in part by Professor McGonagall's descriptions of the vaults underneath Gringotts. She dreamed of being burned at the stake and using the Flame-Freezing charm but as she had no idea of what it looked like, she ended up turning the flames into ice which seemed to burn her just the same, and a woman's voice laughing good-naturedly and humming a poem about fire and ice and rage. Once she had a nightmare about actually being eaten by a Lethifold and quickly stopped her morning routine of claiming one had gotten her when she awoke tangled in her blankets.

She tried on her robes at least once a day and posed in front of the mirror and decided the best way to artfully drape them. She was careful not to do any magic with her wand, so instead of swishing it around like a prop she would stroke it idly during the afternoon, dreaming about the wonderful things she would soon learn to do with it.

She missed her mother. She knew Linda would have found all this wonderful— at least she thought so— and wished she could be there with her. She wondered if she could have done anything to save her when the old theater had collapsed during her last performance, and resolved to learn about ways to hold buildings up when she reached Hogwarts.

 _When she reached Hogwarts._

She had only two weeks of waiting, and they were both the longest and shortest two weeks of her life. The morning she awoke and made her yawning way to the calendar and crossed off the 31st of August, she could scarcely believe it. Today was September 1st. She was going to begin Hogwarts today. She let out a shriek and dashed for her closet, pulling out one of her robes and dressing as quickly as she could.

After repeating the process, (having put her robes on inside-out the first time), Sarah practically inhaled her breakfast. She alternated between bouncing in her seat to rushing from her room to get her hairbrush which she had forgotten to the living room where her trunk sat unobtrusively, waiting much more patiently than she herself was capable of. Her father chuckled as she scrambled for the window when they heard a special knock on the door. "It's her! Professor— well, I suppose it's Isobel McGregor," Sarah corrected, eying the old blond hair of the woman outside their door.

Robert opened the door and 'Isobel McGregor' swept in. Sarah held back a smile. Mr. Aldbar was right; she moved much too quickly for an old woman.

"Are you packed and ready, Miss Williams?" McGonagall asked.

"M-hm," Sarah said, bouncing over to the woman. "I'm so excited!"

"I can tell," McGonagall said dryly. She tapped herself on the head and the persona of Mrs. McGregor fell away. McGonagall withdrew a folded newspaper and set it on the coffee table. "We're going to Port-key to Kings Cross station."

Sarah eyed the newspaper. McGonagall had said that this was a magical device which let them travel instantly from one place to another, and that it was uncomfortable but over soon enough. Robert shook his head in amazement. "It just looks like a newspaper."

McGonagall eyed Sarah's trunk. "It's supposed to." She pursed her lips and withdrew her wand— which seemed out of place on the prim and proper Isobel McGregor— and swished it, murmuring, "Reducio." The trunk shrank in size until it was the size of a matchbox. "There. Store that in your pocket until we reach Platform 9 3/4. It's far too difficult to take a full-sized trunk via Port-key." Sarah picked up the tiny trunk and ran her fingers over the corners before carefully storing it in the pocket of her robes. McGonagall picked up the newspaper once again and held it out to her and Robert. "We have to be holding it at precisely 12:00," she reminded them. The two Williamses each grabbed a corner of the newspaper and Sarah watched the big clock on the mantelpiece tick. The second hand moved from 11:58 to 11:59, then—

Sarah felt as though something had hooked around her stomach and drawn her forwards, hurtling her through time and space until she felt she would surely spin right out of reality itself. She thought she caught a flash of something —feathers?— but then it was gone and her legs crumpled beneath her as she landed on something solid. When the rushing of her ears faded, she heard the sounds of several other voices and animals and a rushing steam noise she would remember forever.

She raised her head and saw bright red paint and gold letters spelling out the words HOGWARTS EXPRESS.

Sarah got to her feet, somehow managing to avoid tripping over her new black robes, and stared at the huge steam engine. She'd read about it in A History of Magic, but nothing could have prepared her for the sight of it. It seemed to simply hum with magic— she remembered learning that it no longer ran on steam but entirely on magic— and Sarah had the sudden urge to walk up to it and run her hands along the bright red paint.

"Miss Williams," Professor McGonagall's voice called. Sarah turned to see the professor glancing between her and her father, who was also staring at Hogwarts Express with wonder. The woman's lips twitched. "We are going to board it, you know."

Sarah squealed, clapping her hands. "Where? Which car?"

"That one ahead," McGonagall pointed to a coach far down the train.

"Who rides in this one?" Sarah asked, looking from the carriage near the front to the one McGonagall had pointed out.

McGonagall checked that Robert was following her and began making her way through the crowd around the train. Sarah trailed after her, feeling closed in by all the people and trunks and cages with owls and a cat which was being chased by a girl her age. She saw parents hugging their children, some more stiffly than others, and a few older students talking in low voices with each other. No one seemed to be speaking to anyone who wasn't in their group, and the overall atmosphere was one of tense expectancy, like Diagon Alley, but with a lighter feel, as though Platform 9 3/4 was sacred ground even the Death Eaters dared not defile.

"The prefects ride in the carriage near the front," McGonagall said, answering her earlier question. "After that, the rest of the coaches are for passengers. Most years, you may sit wherever you wish, but lately we have taken to placing the first-years in their own coach." She stepped around a luggage trolley in a smooth motion which Robert copied with relative success and Sarah did not.

Her foot tangled on one wheel of the trolley and sent her staggering, attempting to regain her balance, right into a group of wizards. She fell on her hands and knees to the sound of tense, cruel laughter. "What kind of animal are you, then?" one boy asked. Sarah got to her feet angrily at the tone of his voice and froze when she realized the group of older students had closed in a circle around her, and they were all bigger than her. "Looks clumsy," sneered a girl whose face gave a surprisingly accurate impression of the slimy creature she meant to accuse the younger girl of being.

"She can't help it, Lorrie," a tall boy with perfect black hair said. "Not if she's a Mudblood."

Sarah blinked. That seemed—judging by the mocking grins of the circle of older students— to be an insult, though she couldn't quite figure out how. "I'm sorry," she said timidly. "I didn't mean to trip." This made the boys laugh, for whatever reason. Sarah felt herself growing warm and suppressed the desire to stamp her foot. "Can you let me out? Professor McGonagall is showing me—"

But she never got to say what it was Professor McGonagall was doing, as a wrinkled hand grabbed the shoulder of the boy with black hair and yanked him aside, revealing the old worn face of Valerius Aldbar. "You're a fool to use such language here, Olthom," Aldbar snarled.

Olthom opened his mouth to retort, glaring mutinously at the older man, but Aldbar grabbed Sarah's hand and pulled her out of the circle. "You should be careful around them," Aldbar said. "They haven't quite gotten the hang of subtlety yet, though I doubt they ever will. They're fools enough to attack for no other reason than they want to."

Sarah trotted to keep up with the old man, whose stride was deceptively quick and long. "I didn't mean to," she hurried to explain, "I tripped on a trolley and—"

"It doesn't matter what you meant," Aldbar interrupted. "Some people will take advantage of any weakness and exploit it. You have to keep your head down; you're just a first-year, and a Muggle-born to boot. You haven't family at Hogwarts to help you."

"I was," Sarah protested mutinously. "I was being polite."

Aldbar grunted. "Good." He led her around a family embracing their son and presented her to a worried-looking McGonagall. "She fell in Olthom's gang," Aldbar explained.

McGonagall inhaled sharply. "Miss Williams, I told you to stay with me for precisely this reason. You must listen!"

 _I was trying,_ Sarah thought mutinously. _It wasn't my fault._ However, her father was looking as though he'd dearly love to use this as an excuse to keep her home, so Sarah swallowed her angry words and her pride and nodded meekly. "Sorry, Professor."

"See that you do better in the future," McGonagall said. She looked around as though making a head-count and sighed. "Will you be all right, Valerius?"

Aldbar made a sound that was a cross between a snort and a dry laugh. "Surrounded by the extremely dangerous students, Minerva? However will I survive?"

McGonagall laughed. "I thought Horace was bad enough, but you're going to be a terrible influence on Severus."

Aldbar's smile faded. "I should hope not." McGonagall blinked and swept off without saying anything more. Aldbar surveyed the crowd, much as McGonagall had, and nodded tersely. "All right. Say your goodbyes, and in you go."

Sarah looked up at her father and it suddenly struck her that she would be leaving him for almost the entire year. Her breath caught. He knelt down beside her and rested his hands on her shoulders. "Now, now," he said softly. "None of that. Christmas break is in only four months. And you'll be much too busy to miss me, Princess. Learning about magic and potions and flying…" He fixed her with a mock glare. "I do hope you will not fly without a seatbelt, young lady."

Sarah giggled and shook her head. "No, sir." Her smile faded and she threw herself into his embrace. "I'm going to miss you, Daddy," she said into his shirt.

"Me too, Princess." He drew back and searched her face. "Now. Get in there and do me and your mother proud, Miss Williams."

Sarah raised her chin. Her eyes narrowed. Her shoulders straightened.

Robert stood and helped her climb into the coach, sending a silent plea to Aldbar with his eyes. The old man nodded, unseen by Sarah, and Robert watched them both make their way into a seat. Sarah's face appeared in a window shortly and he waved. The train whistled, then jerked, and pulled out of sight. Robert waved until he could see it no longer, and then stared after it for a long while afterwards. He blinked as someone came up behind him.

"You're doing remarkably well," McGonagall's voice said softly.

"I've had to," he said. "But it's hard. I never could really understand her the way Linda did, and now that she's a witch…" He shook his head.

McGonagall was silent for a short while. "I know of someone who might help," she said finally. "She was once in the same situation Sarah was in, and she can answer your questions about Hogwarts while I am busy at Hogwarts."

Robert turned to her with hope in his eyes. "Oh? What's her name?"

"Irene."

==

Unaware of her father's soon-to-be friend, Sarah was busy taking in the names of the other seven first years in her compartment. For some reason, Aldbar had chosen to sit in her compartment instead of one of the other four. This decision made most of the first-years breathe a quiet sigh of relief, and a couple of them glance almost longingly at the door as though wishing they could pass through it.

After several minutes of swinging their feet over the edges of the seats and even more minutes of watching the countryside rush by outside the window, one girl with red hair and freckles let out an exaggerated sigh. "Well, I'm Caroline Honeysett. What are your names?"

"Andrea Goldstone."

"Marcellus Cruxton."

"Aurelia Ingram."

"Reginald Venwood."

"Selwyn," one replied tersely. "Avery," the other replied, equally as tersely.

Aurelia gasped softly. "Isn't your dad—"

"A Slytherin?" Avery snapped, pale blue eyes flashing dangerously.

Selwyn glanced around the coach and seemed to come to a decision which involved inching closer to the dark-haired boy. "I'll probably be one," Selwyn commented nonchalantly. "Just like most of my family."

Avery seemed to gather courage from Selwyn's nearness, and drew himself up. "Just like Aldbar," he added.

Aldbar said nothing, but his hands twitched where they were folded together in his lap.

Andrea stared at Aldbar as though he had suddenly grown three heads. "But you're an Auror!" she exclaimed.

Avery picked at his robes. "Isn't a reason for him not to be," he muttered.

Sarah watched everything with interest. She couldn't understand why Aldbar being both an Auror and a Slytherin was a problem. "Are Slytherins usually not Aurors?" she asked.

Selwyn snorted. "What would be the point?"

Sarah blinked. This was important, she knew. Somehow, whatever the problem here was, it would be vitally important in the year to come. "Professor McGonagall said Slytherins are known for their cunning and cleverness." She noticed Avery, Selwyn, and Aldbar tilt their heads at this but continued. "Wouldn't they make excellent Aurors?"

Avery looked from Aldbar to Sarah and back again. "The best," he murmured.

Andrea was shaking her head. "Dark wizards are always Slytherins!"

"Miss Goldstone, please refrain from passing on baseless generalizations," Aldbar said in a low voice. "My house is just as loyal as any other, which makes a war based on blood particularly devastating."

"Sorry, Auror Aldbar," Andrea said in a smaller voice.

"It's Professor now, isn't it?" Avery asked. "I heard you're going to be the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher this year."

Aldbar squinted at him. "Aye. Rumor mill certainly is running."

Avery shifted in his seat and stared pointedly out the window.

"Professor Aldbar," Sarah tried out. She smiled. "It sits nicely on the tongue, as my Mum used to say."

"What's your Mum's name?" asked Marcellus Cruxton.

"Linda," Sarah replied, confused.

Aurelia smiled. "I think he means is she a witch."

"No. Both my parents are Muggles."

Selwyn and Avery jerked back and Cruxton looked surprised. "Oh," he said. "I see."

Aldbar's lips twitched. "Couldn't tell, could you?"

"Clothes were shabby enough," Selwyn mumbled.

Caroline smiled brightly at everyone. "Shall we play a game?" she asked in an obvious change of subject.

Reginald Venwood scooted closer to Caroline. "That sounds like a great idea. What kind of game?"

Selwyn and Avery rolled their eyes and resumed an incredibly important survey of the world outside their window. Caroline's smile faded slightly at this, but she gathered herself up and explained the principles of a game her parents used to play on long journeys. The object was to think of an animal and give one clue about its identity, and if someone guessed wrong, give another clue that had to do with the wrong guess. "Simple enough."

Selwyn tore his gaze from the window long enough to raise an eyebrow at Sarah. "Perhaps."

Sarah thought she had missed something, probably another joke at her expense, judging by Avery's wry lip twist of a smile. "Who goes first?" she asked to distract herself.

"The youngest," Reginald decided.

"My birthday was the beginning of July," said Andrea.

"End of July," Aurelia piped up.

Sarah thought of a bright red circle on the calendar and smiled. "The 4th of August," she said.

Everyone looked around at each other, and as this was apparently the most recent date, then looked at Sarah. She felt a moment's panic at having to think of an animal, contrasted with when Caroline was explaining the game and she remembered every animal she'd ever seen. _Cat,_ she thought. "I'm thinking of an animal with four legs."

"Hippogrif," Selwyn said instantly.

Sarah shook her head. "No, this animal does not have wings."

Selwyn looked momentarily stricken, perhaps at the realization that she hadn't stared in confusion at the magical animal's name.

Aurelia narrowed her eyes. "Dog?"

"No," Sarah said, then tried to think of another clue, a way in which dogs differed from cats. "This animal has—"

"Whiskers and a long tail because it is a cat," Avery said, still with his slender arms folded on the windowsill and his chin resting morosely on them.

Sarah felt out of place but wasn't sure exactly why or how to stop feeling that way. "That's right."

Caroline drew her shoulders back, almost imperceptibly and thus probably without realizing she was doing it. "Your turn, Avery."

Avery huffed out a breath, blowing his wispy dark hair out of his eyes. "I'm thinking of an animal with three legs."

The children blinked and Aldbar cracked an eye open.

Aurelia furrowed her brow, brushing her golden hair behind an ear. "The Three-Legged Stool?"

"No. It's an animal," Avery stressed, a tiny grin beginning.

"It was a Transfigured cat," Aurelia muttered.

Marcellus and Reginald looked around the compartment as though hoping inspiration would strike.

"A lion after its leg was amputated," Andrea suggested.

"No. This animal has every leg." Avery's grin was growing.

Selwyn was frowning heavily, and snatching glances at the others in the compartment.

"A kangaroo," Aurelia said suddenly.

"No. This animal does not live in Australia."

Reginald and Caroline huffed. "That's hardly a clue," Andrea grumbled.

Aldbar's lips twitched.

Sarah thought. Perhaps the line of questions would be to narrow down the options. "Giraffe."

"No." This time there was a pause. "This animal does not have a long neck."

"Gazelle."

"No." The pause was longer. "This animal is not known for speed."

Apparently catching on, Aurelia guessed, "A Kneazle?"

"No. This animal does not have whiskers." Avery sat up straighter and half-turned towards the group.

"Does it have long fur?" Andrea asked.

Caroline tutted. "No, you have to guess an animal to get a clue."

"Is it a half-Kneazle?" Andrea tried.

"No. This animal is pure as the driven snow, more or less." Avery grinned at Selwyn.

 _Three legs,_ Sarah thought. What animal had three legs… Thinking of legs and animals with legs, she thought of a centipede almost instantly and chuckled at herself. _No, only three legs._

She was confused.

Aurelia suddenly called out, "Sheep!"

Avery inclined his head. "Yes."

Long huffs met this pronouncement, the group of children alternating between switching their brains over from thinking of an animal to frowning as they realized—

"You said it had three legs!" Andrea protested.

"It does," Avery grinned. "It just _also_ has one more."

Aldbar chuckled. "Good one, Avery."

Selwyn smiled.

"Your turn, Ingram," Avery said, turning to sit on his seat and face the group properly.

Aurelia looked up at the ceiling for inspiration. "I'm thinking of an animal…"

==

The train ride was over sooner than Sarah thought it would be. It might have had something to do with the guessing game becoming a game of charades—which Avery, Selwyn, and Ingram opted out of— and Marcellus' antics as the three-headed Runespoor leaving the group holding their sides with laughter. Humor, apparently, shortened otherwise lengthy journeys.

That and the snacks.

The Hogwarts Express had a trolley full of all sorts of candy from a shop called Honeydukes (which Caroline said was in a town called Hogsmeade, which the students from third year up could visit) and Sarah loved them all. There were Liquorice Wands, Chocolate Frogs, Bertie Botts Every Flavor Beans, Cauldron Cakes, and much more. These seemed to be the candy of the Wizarding world, and Sarah thought she could quite easily come to love them all. Caroline, Andrea, and Aurelia chose the Cauldron Cakes and Pumpkin Pasties, and Marcellus and Reginald bought Jelly Slugs and Chocolate Frogs. Avery and Selwyn bought a large bag of the Every Flavor Beans and shared them with each other, laughing when the other had a particularly nasty flavor (they mentioned something about ear wax and mouldy cheese, which made Sarah shudder) and fighting over the last ordinary red one which was sure to be the delicious strawberry.

Sarah still had some Galleons in her pocket, leftover from her Gringotts withdrawal two weeks ago, and which her father had said she could spend on 'whatever there is to spend it on'. Concluding that this definitely qualified, she bought a liquorice wand and a Chocolate Frog. The frog, she was astonished to discover, actually hopped from the package when she opened it, causing her to let out a small shriek. Ignoring Avery and Selwyn's laughter and Marcellus and Andrea's smiles, she stared at it as the frog hopped around on the seat.

"You can eat it," Caroline said.

Sarah looked up at her, aghast. "But—"

Andrea shrugged. "It's weird, but it's just chocolate."

"Made with Crokoa," Aurelia added. "This allows it to act like a frog, while remaining edible."

"Frogs are edible," Marcellus mused. "At least I think so. Fancy people eat them sometimes, don't they?"

Selwyn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, if you're a Muggle pretending at status you don't have."

"Wizards eat frogs too," Marcellus shot back. The two boys devolved into an arguing match that Sarah did her best to tune out.

She reached out and picked it up and noted with disgust that it moved. She took a tentative sniff— noted that it did indeed smell like chocolate— and sighed as it wriggled around. She was about to ask if anyone wanted it when she noticed Avery watching her with a knowing smirk. She firmed her chin and bit the head off the chocolate frog.

To her great relief— though she did her best not to show it— the frog no longer moved, and tasted like normal chocolate, though with a hint of earthiness. She ate the rest of it and decided she liked them, though perhaps not all the time.

"Who'd you get?" Reginald asked.

Sarah blinked at him in confusion. "Pardon?"

"Your card. Every Chocolate Frog comes with a card you can collect, of famous wizards and witches."

Sarah looked in her box and saw a card with a picture of a witch on it… it seemed to be moving… it was! "Do all pictures move in the wizarding world?" she asked, studying the witch's portrait. The witch smiled mysteriously at her, seeming warm and regal all at once. "Queen Maeve," Sarah read. "Famous for teaching young wizards and witches in medieval Ireland prior to the founding of Hogwarts."

"Oh, I've already got her," Reginald said, sitting back on his seat. "I'm trying to get Agrippa."

"Not all pictures move," Aurelia said. "The ones on the Chocolate Frog cards are more like wizarding portraits, which contain a bit of the personality of the wizard or witch pictured. I've got Fulbert the Fearful, for example, and he's always cowering as though expecting the card to collapse in on him."

Sarah tucked the card into her pocket and set to devouring her liquorice wand with relish. "That's pretty cool," she commented. "Who invented the way of doing that?"

Aurelia paused. "I— don't know. They've done it for several centuries, I think." A furrow developed between her blue eyes and she tapped her fingers on her knee. "I'll have to see if the Hogwarts library has anything about it."

Marcellus smiled. "Sounds like you're going to be a Ravenclaw."

Aurelia nodded absently. "My Mum was; my Dad was a Gryffindor."

"My family was all in Slytherin," Avery said. Andrea and Reginald looked askance at him as though he had said his family all liked to eat small children.

"It's a good House," Aldbar said mildly. Andrea, Reginald, Avery and Selwyn jumped as though they had forgotten he was there. "You can go pretty far with Slytherin ambition, if you've the subtlety for it."

Sarah saw the subject change for what it was and pounced. "Did it help you in Auror training?" she asked. She saw even Selwyn frown at her as though re-evaluating her and hoped he wouldn't see her as a stupid Muggle anymore.

Aldbar grinned. "Yes. Though I had to learn how to communicate with Aurors from other Houses. Slytherins in my year were much more quick-witted than the ones today."

"How so?" Selwyn demanded.

Aldbar shook his head. "It would take too long to explain it to you." He looked out the window and his grizzled eyebrows rose. "We're nearly there. I'll be checking in on the other compartments." He heaved himself to his feet and slid open the door. "See that you don't attack each other. I would so hate to see you losing points before you're even Sorted." With that, he let himself out and shut the door.

The first years were silent for a while.

"You-Know-Who was a Slytherin," Andrea said suddenly.

"And?" Avery drawled with infuriating slowness.

"And ambition can get you pretty far, all right— pretty far into the Dark Arts."

Sarah saw Avery and Selwyn turn to look out the window and felt something within her rise up. "Makes sense," she said nonchalantly. The others stared at her and she could tell Avery and Selwyn were paying attention. "Quentin Trimble said the Dark Arts are another version of power, and if your House values power and influence more than friendship or bravery, you'd be pretty interested in any ways of gaining power you could."

"Well put, Miss Williams." Aldbar's voice came from behind, causing them to jump. Sarah wondered if that was why he was such a good Auror—he could sneak up on people with what seemed to be the greatest of ease. The old man leaned against the doorframe, swaying in place with the train as he looked every one of them in the eye. "This year, you're going to be hearing a lot about blood supremacy and House disputes. Keep in mind that we're all human, no matter what color hangs above our beds or if we can cast an Unlocking Charm or not. I don't want to see you dissolving into petty and foolish fights about it, understood?"

"Yes, Professor Aldbar," the students chorused.

"Good. We're about to pull into Hogsmeade Station, so gather up your things."

 _A/N: All right. Sorry this took so long! I'm glad I did all this prep on other students in Sarah's year way back when I started. I'll be doing NaNoWriMo this year, which means (for me) that I'm aiming to finish_ Vindicated Auror _by the end of October. I'll resume writing for_ Sister Stones _in December, probably. And I'll have to do more research, as I either misremembered, miswrote, or our Lady the Queen changed canon on me, but some details I thought I knew are wrong. Anyway. Let me know how this scene was... I think I stretched out the guessing game for the word count? but it was also fun for characters. I've a few ideas on these firsties._

 _Also. Avery. I know years don't match up, but I wanted him here so I made Avery Sr have another child, born like 10 years after the Avery Jr that we meet in_ Goblet of Fire. _Speaking of, if anyone knows Avery Jr's first name I'd appreciate it. Or -related note - a Roman god whose name begins with J other than Jupiter or Janus. My Avery and Sarah are going to have an interesting time of it, given what happens at the end of the year, yeah?_

 _[Oh, and Lorrie. I'm changing dates again and this awful woman's last year at Hogwarts is going to be 1981. I made up the nickname Lorrie, but a crack-y oneshot to anyone who guesses who she is! Itty bitty subplot arc beginning here.]_

 _I may have missed something, but I'm a bit pressed for time so this will have to suffice. Thank everyone who favorited or reviewed or read, and I'll be posting the next chapter in a few days!_

 _(oct 4, 2016)_


	5. The Sorting Ceremony

_This chapter is dedicated to Honoria Granger, who quite helpfully informed me of the illegibility of the chapter the first time I tried to post it. Thank you ever so much!_

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Sarah thought Hogsmeade Station was lovely, she would like to see more of it, and she would be early this Christmas break so as to do so. For now, she watched the most enormous man she had ever met lead her and the other thirty or so first-years along a shady path. He'd introduced himself as Hagrid, and she thought he was the sort of man one would like to have as an uncle. The first-years like Caroline and Bailey Brockden seemed to find him delightful, and the students like Avery, Selwyn, and the boy they had greeted as Fawley seemed to find Hagrid something of a joke, though they were too busy taking in the path to try anything.

Hagrid led them to the shores of a large lake, where half a dozen small boats were waiting for them. "In you go," Hagrid boomed. "No tipping, no more than six per boat!" Once six students had settled themselves into a boat, Hagrid pushed it out into the lake and it moved across the water on its own power.

As they got closer, Sarah could see turrets rising into the sky, followed by high stone towers and then walls. She looked up at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and thought, _This is a castle worth living in._ Even Selwyn and a straw-haired boy who had tried fishing in the Black Lake during the ride looked awed and impressed, and Sarah felt a small thrill of satisfaction at it. She wondered why, but only for a moment, as the boats were drifting around the castle and to an archway in the base. They passed through a curtain of ivy and entered an underground harbor shaped like a horseshoe. Three boats came to rest on each side, which was flat and just above the water level. Towards the castle, a set of stairs rose and turned inward, meeting at the bend in the horseshoe and continuing straight up to a strong wooden door.

"You may exit the boats now," said a stern though familiar Scottish voice, and Sarah looked up at the main staircase in surprised delight. Yes; there was Professor McGonagall, in a set of emerald green robes and a pointed hat, watching the first-years with a regal lift of her chin. Sarah could feel the other students subdue themselves, knowing with that instinctive children's intuition that this was a witch not to cross.

They climbed out— as to how they kept from capsizing the boats, Sarah assumed it had something to do with magic— and climbed the stairs until they flanked Professor McGonagall on each side. "You will follow me," the witch said, and turned on her heel and strode up the stairs. Sarah was again reminded of Aldbar's words and smiled. No, she didn't move like an old woman at all. Professor McGonagall led them down a corridor, up two flights of stairs, and through another corridor, into a small chamber filled with trunks and owls. McGonagall surveyed the students, likely counting heads, and drew herself up. "Welcome to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," she said. "I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, Deputy Headmistress. You will shortly be led into the Great Hall, where you will be Sorted into one of four Houses: Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, or Slytherin. During the school year your House will be like your family, and I hope you shall make friends with those you meet. Your behavior will dictate the points you receive towards the school's most prestigious award, the House Cup. I expect you all to behave respectfully to the staff, the school, and the other students. Misbehaving in any manner will result in punishment… but I hope that shall not be necessary."

McGonagall looked around, likely to see if everyone was paying attention and nodded to herself. "Follow me, please."

Sarah dutifully trotted after the other first-years into a large hall. She could see a magnificent white marble staircase on one side, and a set of oak doors on the other side. The hall continued and she could see openings for other corridors and a door and four huge hourglasses with different colored stones in the top, but they weren't dropping into the bottom. "This way," McGonagall said, and Sarah turned her attention to the fourth side of the hall, which bore the door to the antechamber they had just exited, and a set of double doors.

Sarah never really remembered actually _walking_ into the Great Hall. She knew she must have, for the four long tables with hundreds of students in black robes grew larger as she approached, and she could see the high ceiling which was enchanted to look like the sky—meaning it was currently evening— and she could see hundreds of floating candles illuminating the entire hall. At the far end there was a long table situated perpendicular to the four tables. _It must be the teachers' table,_ Sarah reasoned. She recognized Aldbar talking to a young man in black robes seated beside him, Hagrid speaking to a kind-looking, if a bit plump woman, and an old man with a long beard in a throne-like chair at the middle of the table.

The student in front of Sarah stopped and she realized they had made their way along the right edge and Professor McGonagall was bringing a stool with an old patched, dirty and droopy hat to the front of the Great Hall. She sat it down and all the students quieted down as though waiting for something. The hat moved, making Sarah hold in a gasp— really, she'd have to get used to magic being performed around her sometime. The hat cleared its throat, and Sarah revised her thoughts. _I don't ever want to get used to magic._ The hat began singing, which Marcellus had told her it did but she couldn't really believe until she saw a tear in the brim open up like a mouth and words begin pouring out.

 _Oh you may not think I'm pretty,_  
 _But don't judge on what you see,_  
 _I'll eat myself if you can find_  
 _A smarter hat than me._

 _You can keep your bowlers black,_  
 _Your top hats sleek and tall,_  
 _For I'm the Hogwarts Sorting Hat_  
 _And I can cap them all._

 _There's nothing hidden in your head_  
 _The Sorting Hat can't see,_  
 _So try me on and I will tell you_  
 _Where you ought to be._

 _You might belong in Gryffindor,_  
 _Where dwell the brave at heart,_  
 _Their daring, nerve, and chivalry_  
 _Set Gryffindors apart;_

 _You might belong in Hufflepuff,_  
 _Where they are just and loyal,_  
 _Those patient Hufflepuffs are true_  
 _And unafraid of toil;_

 _Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw,_  
 _if you've a ready mind,_  
 _Where those of wit and learning,_  
 _Will always find their kind;_

 _Or perhaps in Slytherin_  
 _You'll make your real friends,_  
 _Those cunning folks use any means_  
 _To achieve their ends._

 _So put me on! Don't be afraid!_  
 _And don't get in a flap!_  
 _You're in safe hands (though I have none)_  
 _For I'm a Thinking Cap!_

Everyone clapped, including the staff, and McGonagall stepped up to the three-legged stool and opened up the scroll. "Avery, Janus!" she read out.  
Avery parted from the group of first-years and made his way to the stool. McGonagall raised the Sorting Hat and he sat down and she placed it down on his head. It was silent for a moment, then the tear in the brim opened wide and the Sorting Hat shouted, "SLYTHERIN!"

One table clapped and cheered, part of one clapped, one other was silent, and the fourth booed and hissed as Avery made his way to the table on the left side of the Great Hall. He sat down near the end, and the older students near him bent towards him, presumably giving him advice on the House he had just been sorted into.

"Barrett, Drusilla!" McGonagall called. A girl with a long brown braid bounded over to the stool and McGonagall placed the Hat over her head.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the Hat almost instantly. Drusilla jumped up and ran to the table on the right side to much cheering and clapping, except from what Sarah now knew was Slytherin, and was booing and hissing just as Gryffindor had done with Avery.

Sarah suddenly remembered the day her father came home from a trial and had to explain why three men with white skin had beaten one man with black skin, and how she had been confused as to what they were fighting about, and how Robert had looked at her with something like pity and told her to hold on to that confusion, because nothing about this made sense. She felt a great sadness come over her. She knew this was not just innocent school rivalry. This was terrible, bloody feuding, and would lead and had led to war.

"Brockden, Bailey" was Sorted into Hufflepuff and sat down at the table between the Slytherin table and what must be the Ravenclaw table to claps from three Houses and laughs and sniggers from Slytherin.

"Crawford, Silvanus" was Sorted into Ravenclaw to claps from all Houses.

Sarah now had an idea of House politics, which was furthered by each successive Sorting. She moved restlessly from side to side, and wished (not for the first time) that she had a different name than Sarah Williams. Aaron, or something that would have let her go first. There were over 30 names ahead of her. Sometimes the Hat took a long time to make its decision, other times it decided almost instantly. The newly-Sorted students sometimes looked as though they had won a battle and other times wide-eyed and expectant as they joined their new House.

At last McGonagall called her name, the last on the roster. "Williams, Sarah!"

 _Oh dear._ She suddenly felt slightly weak with nerves as she stepped forward. Goodness, all those people staring at her… Sarah glanced to the side and blinked. Well. This might just be the closest thing to a stage she ever got. Her shoulders drew back and her chin lifted and she hoped her walk could be described as 'stately' as she covered the last few feet to the stool. McGonagall lifted the Hat and she sat down, facing the four tables and trying to keep her back straight. The Hat came down over her eyes and she felt a tickling sensation at the back of her head.

 _Hm, what have we here?_ The voice could only be coming from the Sorting Hat itself. _Brave I see, and helpful too. There's curiosity…oh, and quite a bit of cunning…you would go far in Slytherin, I think._

Sarah thought of the way the school seemed to be three against one and her heart tightened. _I could. I could do it,_ she thought. _It would be hard, but I could do it._

She seemed to hear the Hat chuckling to itself. _Well then. I know what to do with you._ The next instant, it shouted, "GRYFFINDOR!"

The Hat was lifted and Sarah jumped off the stool and headed towards the Gryffindor table, which was clapping and cheering. Part of the Hufflepuff table, which included Caroline and Reginald Venwood, were cheering for her as well, along with several Ravenclaw students, among them Aurelia Ingram. As Sarah turned to sit down, she saw Avery and Selwyn staring at her, not booing or hissing as were most of the rest of their table.

Sarah was clapped on the back and she saw wide smiles all around. Marcellus and Andrea grinned. "You're a Gryffindor, Sarah! House of the brave, daring, and chivalrous!"

The old man at the staff table stood up and the four tables fell into silence. "Congratulations to each of you. May you do your Houses proud. I am Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, as some of you may know as I have been here for many years." There were a few chuckles to to this, and Dumbledore's blue eyes twinkled behind their half-moon spectacles. "I have a few announcements, and then we may begin our banquet. First, we have a new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Valerius Aldbar, who will also be the Slytherin Head of House." Aldbar stood and acknowledged the cheers sent his way before sitting down.

The older Gryffindors at the table began whispering to each other.

"What about Slughorn?"

"Look, he isn't at the Head Table!"

Dumbledore continued as though no one was speaking. "As you may have guessed, this means Horace Slughorn has stepped down as Potions Master. Professor Severus Snape will be filling that difficult position." The young man by Aldbar — Snape, apparently— did not stand but simply raised a hand to acknowledge the cheers— mostly from Slytherin. "Thirdly, I must remind all of you that the Forbidden Forest is exactly what it sounds like, and off-limits to all students." Dumbledore paused and looked around. "Tuck in!" he said, clapped his hands, and piles of food appeared on the table. He sat down to cheers and then the tinkling of hundreds of plates and bowls and utensils.

Sarah paused for just a moment, reveling in the new atmosphere. _Hogwarts,_ she thought. She stretched her toes down to touch the floor beneath her and felt satisfied.

 _Home._

After the feast, Headmaster Dumbledore stood up once more and smiled at everyone. "Again, welcome to Hogwarts. The wizarding world is not as calm as it has been in other years, but rest assured that Hogwarts will always give aid to those who need it. I urge you to give your best to your classes and your House, and be ready to take a stand for what you believe in." The students were quiet, with frequent looks being thrown at the Slytherins and the Slytherins staring right back.

"While House rivalry can be an aid to competition," Dumbledore continued, "it may also cause unnecessary fights if allowed to grow into something more. Do try to live at peace with your fellow students." He looked around at everyone again and Sarah felt a small shiver as his eyes passed over her. He had seemed like nothing more than a kind old man until then, but now she remembered reading how he was the most powerful wizard alive, and how McGonagall had said even He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was afraid of him. "That's said," Dumbledore finished, "so prefects, you may lead your first-years to your Houses."

Six older students rose from the Gryffindor table, three girls and three boys. "Come along this way," said the oldest prefect, a boy with brown hair and kind blue eyes, leading them down through the Great Hall toward the big double doors. The rest of the prefects spread out along the first-years and Sarah felt as though they had rehearsed this, and from the covert glances they sent the Slytherins, that they were something of body guards.  
The sounds of hundreds of feet slapping against the stones as the students left the Great Hall sent a thrill through her. She thought for a moment she could sense their magic, all two hundred-odd wizards and witches focused on getting to their House dormitories and excited about the coming school year, their magic bouncing about the air and pulsing through the stones.

"My name is Gilbert Fortescue, and I am Head Boy this year." the boy with brown hair said.

Ferdinand Meriwether let out a small gasp. "Fortescue? Like the ice cream shop?"

Gilbert Fortescue sighed. Heavily. "Yes. Florean Fortescue is my older brother. No, you may not ask me for free ice cream." He shook his head and smiled at them. "As I was saying, congratulations on making it into Gryffindor House."

 _Congratulations? But we didn't do anything other than listen to an old hat,_ Sarah thought.

The girl his age glanced around at the first-year girls and smiled at Sarah. "I'm Dorothea Macklesburg, prefect. Feel free to come to me, or any of the other prefects, if you have any trouble."

Ivy Nelson, a small girl with big grey eyes and curly brown hair, looked up at the older girl nervously. "What kind of trouble?"

The prefects looked at each other and Fortescue cleared his throat. "Trouble with school, or finding your way around the castle." He gestured at the staircases they were climbing. "The staircases move, sometimes…" He heaved a huge sigh as though deciding something and stopped, turning to them. The nine first-years clumped together and stared up at him, wide-eyed. "You know there's a war going on," Fortescue began. "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is gathering supporters from everywhere, including Hogwarts. You'll probably encounter students who you think are children of his Death Eaters, or actually ones themselves. Some of them might hate you because you're Muggle-born or a Gryffindor, or you believe we shouldn't kill each other to solve our problems." Dorothea put a hand on his arm and he paused, composing himself.

Sarah was thinking, _They'll really hate me, then. I'm all three._

Fortescue continued, "That isn't going to happen much, though. Hogwarts is pretty safe. Trouble just might happen, and if it does, we can deal with it. We're Gryffindors." He smiled at them and one or two returned his smile.

Sarah followed the prefects up the staircases and jumped with a few of the first years when the staircase they were on swung suddenly to the side, shifting into a landing above them.

Dorothea laughed. "That's one thing about Hogwarts. The staircases like to move by themselves. There's a trick to them, like that one there—" she pointed to one a few floors above them, "—always leads to the Restricted Section on Friday. There's a vanishing stair on one there."

"What's the Restricted Section?" Marcellus Cruxton asked.

"It's a part of the library," one of the other prefects said. "You have to get permission from a teacher to even enter, or check any of the books out, or if you're sixth or seventh year and studying advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts."

The youngest looking prefect, a boy with mischievous blue eyes, nudged her playfully. "Librenna's just lording it over us poor fifth years, now that she's in sixth year."

Librenna colored slightly and gave a small laugh. "Yeah," she said.

Fortescue led them out of the staircase tower, as Sarah thought of it, and turned into another corridor. It felt… _warm_ to Sarah, and the torches lighting the corridor made it seem homely, like a fireplace at night. At the far end of the corridor hung a large portrait of a fat lady. She was moving, as were some of the other portraits, which Sarah thought she would never get used to and did not want to, either.

"Good evening, Lady," Fortescue greeted.

The Fat Lady smiled warmly at him. "Good evening, Mr. Fortescue." Sarah stared at the portrait. It _talked._ She loved magic. The Fat Lady adjusted her seat. "Welcome to Gryffindor, all of you. As you may or may not know, I guard the entrance to your common room. You'll have to give me the password to enter. Your prefects will tell you if the password changes." She looked at Fortescue expectantly.

 _"Leonis Tonet,"_ he said clearly.

"Quite right," the Fat Lady beamed, swinging backwards and revealing a hole in the wall, through which Sarah could see a bright red and gold room that made her feel that peculiar _warm_ feeling again. Fortescue stepped through the portrait hole and motioned for the other first years to follow him. They clambered through, and Sarah nodded at the Fat Lady, wondering what the proper etiquette for thanking a not-so-living sentient painting was. Her nod seemed to suffice, as the Fat Lady smiled at her.

The Gryffindor common room was full of the other Gryffindors, who were talking with each other. A few were playing a game with some kind of cards that periodically blew up in their faces. Fortescue raised his voice over the din to be heard. "Get to know each other and have fun, but remember bed time is in an hour. First year boys, let me show you your dormitories. First year girls, follow Macklesburg to the girls' dorms."

"But what if I want to see the girls' dorms?" Ferdinand Meriwether asked.

"Then you shall have the honor of being the first to discover the consequences of a boy trying to enter the girls' dorms," Fortescue replied.

The older boys chuckled and one raised his wand in a salute. "To the consequences of daring curiosity!"

"To curiosity!" the boys chorused.

Dorothea Macklesburg rolled her eyes. "Boys," she muttered, making her way through the common room to a door set in the circular wall. She opened it and began climbing the spiral staircase there.

Sarah sighed. "Is everything at the top of a staircase?" she wondered, picking her feet up to once again mount a flight of stairs.

Dorothea shrugged. "Some of it is at the bottom of a staircase."

Sarah grinned in spite of herself. She'd be getting a lot of exercise this year, apparently.

Though the staircase continued upwards, Dorothea turned to a beautiful warm brown door on the right. "This is the first-year dormitory. Other years are further up the stairs, behind other doors like this, and while you may enter, it is considered polite to knock first." She opened the door and swept inside in a move that reminded Sarah of McGonagall, and she wondered if Dorothea had copied the Deputy Headmistress on purpose or without realizing it.

But then she entered with the other three girls and stared around in wonder. The room had half a dozen beds, all four-posters with red curtains. House colors seemed to be prominent, Sarah noted. She preferred greens and blues, but the red was nice. It made her feel rather daring, which was a trait of her House, so that was all to the good. She stepped in the room further, taking everything in. The stone floors were covered with thick woolen rugs and the walls, which were also circular, had tapestries of what were probably famous wizards and witches.

Trunks stood at the foot of four of the beds, and Sarah recognized hers at the same time the other three girls did. She dashed to her trunk, and therefore her bed, and couldn't resist the urge to stroke the red curtains of her four-poster bed.

She straightened her shoulders. "All right. We can go back to our common room now. Professor McGonagall should be there soon to give her start-of-term speech."

Sarah was excited once again. "Professor McGonagall?"

"Yes, she's our Head of House."

 _Oh, that's right, I knew that._ Sarah felt like she could breathe easier. This was all new and different, but she was at least familiar with McGonagall. It would be good to have her as Head of House, too, she thought. She was already like a mother bear.

They made their way back down the spiral staircase just as Professor McGonagall was stepping through the portal hole. She gave a few announcements and directions and passed out their time tables for classes the next day, and bade them all a warm goodnight before leaving once more.

Sarah studied her timetable curiously and compared it to the others. Tomorrow, Wednesday, she had Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Astronomy at midnight. (she was inordinately pleased to be _assigned_ work at midnight, as it was almost like being told she was _allowed_ to be up that late, which was just far enough near the edge of the Rules to satisfy her natural sense of curiosity and adventure) Thursday she had Charms, Transfiguration, and History of Magic, Friday she had double Potions, Monday she had Herbology and Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Tuesday she had Charms, Transfiguration, and History.

"Why do we have two Potions classes so close to each other?" she wondered.

Dorothea Macklesburg studied her timetable for a moment. "Likely because potions take a while to brew."

All Sarah knew of potions were the names she'd glanced over in her books, and the bubbling cauldrons she'd seen in movies like Snow White. "What's Potions class like?"

One of the third years shrugged. "It's kind of complicated, but not too bad."

"That was with Professor Slughorn, though," another third year boy said. "Snape might be different as a teacher than an assistant."

"Assistant?" Ivy Nelson repeated.

A sixth year girl frowned. "He took an apprenticeship under Slughorn after he graduated. Sometimes he had to cover Slughorn's classes, but he mostly just graded papers. He was pretty strict." Her frown deepened. "I wonder if he'll be fair to us Gryffindors. I remember he was a fifth year in my first year, and he played nasty pranks on the Marauders."

Sarah blinked. "The what?"

The older students— fifth year and above— chuckled to themselves. "A group of Gryffindor boys. James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. They were the most popular, though they were constantly getting into trouble."

"You know, James married Lily Evans, and they were Head Boy and Girl," one of the fifth years commented. "Our last four Heads have been together, too."

Everyone glanced at Gilbert Fortescue and the older years laughed. "You're going to end up marrying a Hufflepuff!"

Fortescue grinned good-naturedly. "I don't think so. Dianna Lynxden's dating Emeric Berellum, who's in Ravenclaw."

Sarah was content to listen to the even teasing and felt a smile stretch across her face. She would like it here, she thought. She would be proud to call Gryffindor House her own.

Fortescue called for lights out and the students filed off to their dorms, talking back and forth about inter-House dating and gossiping about what Snape would be like. Sarah dug her pajamas out of her trunk and waited in line to change, thinking of all the things she would learn tomorrow. She settled into bed and stared up at the curtains of her four-poster bed and it was quite some time before she dropped off to sleep.

Her last thought was an acknowledgment of an odd sensation she could hardly put a name to. _I think the castle likes me._

 _A/N: Look, here it is, on schedule as promised! I wondered if anyone knew more about how many students are in Hogwarts. I know JKR said 1,000 at some point, and I know judging by the boys named in Harry's dorm (assuming each year gets only one dorm) that is a ridiculously high estimate, so I just averaged 8 students per house per year and went from there. Presumably, there will be more in Harry's later years, as after Voldemort was defeated there would be more children just *clears throat* because. End of war celebrations. Anyway. In my Hogwarts, it's around 220 students, which seems really low and I may fix that later..._

 _As a keen-eyed reader pointed out, Snape didn't begin teaching until after Horace Slughorn left when Lily died. Because I am so firmly set on having Severus and Sarah each begin a new chapter in their lives this year, I decided to change that, by means of having him a Potions apprentice and Slughorn gradually deciding that the huge amount of stress from working so closely with someone who may or may not be trying to figure out what he'd told Riddle just wasn't worth it and hey, Snape could be teacher, he has no guilt. Toodles!_

 _I have an idea for the Sorting from Severus' pov, which may just begin a separate series with his perspective on things in Sarah's story. Probably will._

 _Let me know what you thought!_

 _(Oct 7, 2016)_

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 _Also, I edited the bit about Sarah's schedule, after a whole bunch of research and frustrated 'then I'll do it my own way, Joanne!' and much sighing._


	6. The First Day

Sarah awoke, disoriented and feeling as though she had forgotten something very important. Probably another dream she could never remember, she supposed, blinking up at her familiar bedroom ceiling…

Except the ceiling was unfamiliar grained wood and unfamiliar red curtains and her room was much colder than she remembered and she could hear knocking on an unfamiliar, thick-sounding door and an unfamiliar voice calling out, "Time to wake up! Breakfast in the Great Hall at 7:30!"

Everything rushed through Sarah's head at once and she sat up in excitement because she was at Hogwarts and she was a witch and this was her very first day of _magic school._ She threw aside her bed curtains and jumped out of bed— and instantly shrieked.

"Cold!"

Bare feet against the stones of the castle equaled one girl doing her very best to dance her way to the rug near her bed without actually touching the floor. Sarah made it at last and dug her toes into the thick purple fabric, sighing in relief.

Drusilla Barrett, who had already gotten out of bed and was brushing her hair, chuckled at her. "I slept with my thick wool socks— Mum warned me about the cold floors here." She wiggled her toes at the other girls.

Andrea and Ivy, who had begun waking up to the knocking and startled upright with Sarah's exclamation, carefully left their beds and stepped onto the rugs by their beds. "It's not that cold," Andrea commented, rubbing her arms as she did so. "The fireplace is warm enough."

Sarah squinted at her shoes, lined up neatly by her bed. One pair of trainers, one pair of nice black flats, her favorite pair of heels, and her boots. "I forgot to bring slippers!" she shrieked.

Ivy giggled.

Sarah grumbled under her breath as she tried to open her trunk without leaving the rug.

Andrea hummed. "You can always owl home for your parents to send you a pair."

A pair of fluffy pink slippers shaped like Pygmy Puffs appeared under Sarah's nose and she squeaked. Drusilla grinned, playfully shaking the slippers back and forth. "You can use mine. I brought an extra pair."

"Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!" Sarah held them to her chest. "I shall treasure them until I can return them," she promised solemnly.

The other girl swept her a curtsy. "Then I leave them in your capable hands."

Ivy cleared her throat, drawing everyone's attention. She stood in the middle of the room holding her clothes, wearing a confused expression. "Where do we change?" she asked Drusilla.

Sarah looked around the room, which held only the four beds, four trunks, and four night-tables. She spotted a door on the far side, a pretty chestnut color. "Is that the bathroom?"

"Honestly? You could just change here, if you don't mind," Drusilla shrugged, beginning to do just that.

Andrea whirled around, covering her eyes. "Barrett! A little warning next time!"

Drusilla rolled her eyes. "If I don't mind, why should you?"

Ivy eased one foot forward, then dashed to the bathroom.

Sarah turned back to her trunk, pulling out her wool skirt and jumper. She glanced at the other two girls (Andrea was attempting to dress without taking her hands off her eyes) and shrugged. "Might as well. We're all girls, right?"

"That's the spirit!" Drusilla cheered, straightening her robes. "Also, this way you can sleep in longer, if you don't want to wait for the bathroom."

Andrea lowered her hands.

Sarah giggled, laying her clothes out on the bed. She quickly shrugged out of her nightie and dressed in record time, fastening her robes around everything. "Nice."

Ivy left the bathroom, upon which Andrea claimed it. Ivy looked a bit apprehensive.

"You all right?" Sarah asked her.

The other girl looked startled to be addressed. "Oh, I— the mirror talks."

Sarah stared. "It _does?_ "

Drusilla cocked her head. "Doesn't yours?"

Ivy looked at her boot-clad feet. "Yes, but it isn't _rude._ "

Having switched out the slippers for her flats, Sarah stood up. "Why is the mirror rude?"

Andrea opened the bathroom door. "That mirror wouldn't know beautiful hair if it stared the bloody thing in the charmed face," she announced, flouncing to her bed and throwing her night-clothes in her trunk.

Drusilla chuckled.

Overwhelmingly curious now, Sarah crossed the room and peeked her head in the bathroom. She hadn't gotten a good look at it last night, much less taken the time to stare at herself in the mirror. Now that she had, she noticed the ornate swirls at the top of the round mirror resembled a mouth, which began to open.

"Are you really going to wear _that,_ dear?" the mirror huffed.

Sarah drew back, offended. "It's the uniform," she said in confusion.

"Don't even try," Andrea called. "I'm going to find a way to silence it. That's probably why it's here, so we can learn our Charms."

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation. "Ready, first-years?"

"Macklesburg, right?" Sarah wondered aloud, trying to place the voice.

Drusilla opened the door. "We're ready."

Macklesburg smiled at her. "Brilliant! Just follow me, then. It can take a while to learn the pathways, so I'll be showing you to meals for the first week."

"Thank you, Macklesburg." Andrea said, smiling back.

"I knew it," Sarah muttered, proud of herself for recognizing the older prefect.

The girls filed out, making their way down the circular staircase. They saw a few of the older Gryffindors in the common room on their way past the Fat Lady. While Sarah was deliberating on whether or not Macklesburg's first name had been Dorothy or Althea, Andrea struck up a conversation with the prefect about charmed mirrors.

 _Dorothy or Althea… Dorothy…Althea…oh, I wish I knew...  
_

"Dorothea!" Sarah exclaimed.

Macklesburg turned around. "Yes?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

Sarah blushed. "Your name…I just remembered."

"Well done, then. Most times I get Dorothy."

By this time they had made their way to the Great Hall. The tables were about half-full, though all the teachers were seated at the Head Table. Sarah saw Professor Aldbar seated with Professor Snape again, and Professor McGonagall by Dumbledore. "Do they always sit in the same places?"

No one answered, busy as they were with finding open seats at the long Gryffindor table. Sarah found herself seated across from Macklesburg, beside Andrea and an older girl with light brown hair and brown eyes who introduced herself as Katherine Wilkins, a second year. She laughed when Sarah scrambled to scoop some of the potatoes onto her plate the instant they appeared.

"My dad burns potatoes when he makes them," Sarah explained, staring at her plate with a fond appreciation for the perfectly cooked potatoes it contained. She speared one with her fork— noting with pleasure the soft texture— and brought it to her mouth. Her eyes widened. "These are perfect," she whispered after swallowing.

Those around her smiled widely at her obvious relish as she began to devour everything on her plate.

Sarah's peaceful breakfast was interrupted by a loud swishing noise. She looked up, astonished, to see a veritable flock of owls — _What is a group of owls called? A flock?_ — sweep into the Great Hall. They dove gracefully to the tables. Sarah discovered much to her surprise that the owls held envelopes and newspapers in their beaks, which they dropped without ceremony into the recipient's bowls of porridge. "The owls deliver the mail?" she wondered aloud.

Wilkins looked up from her paper, titled _The Daily Prophet_ , the headline of which seemed to announce Professor Aldbar's taking of the Defense position. The older girl blinked. "Of course, don't they bring the mail to your house?"

Sarah shook her head, watching as a proud owl down the table nipped Ferdinand Meriwether's hand. "No. We don't have an owl."

Wilkins lowered her head, whispering, "Are you…are you _Muggleborn?_ "

That caught Sarah's attention. "Yes," she said slowly, trying to figure out why it mattered.

"You got a problem with that?" Andrea snapped.

Wilkins leaned over Sarah to hiss, "I'm just trying to help her, Goldstone. Nowadays Muggleborns have got to keep their heads down. You don't go announcing to the entire Great Hall what you are."

Andrea leaned forward as well, leaving Sarah to pull back. "Oh? And are _you_ a Muggleborn, or do you just assume you know what's best for everyone?"

"I remember my first year, and how terrible it was!"

"It was probably terrible because you—"

"Ladies!" Macklesburg said sharply. "We do _not_ argue at the House table like a bunch of babbling baboons."

The two girls stopped and stared at her.

Beside Macklesburg, Christopher Lowell choked on his pumpkin juice. "Babbling baboons."

Sarah lifted her chin. "It isn't a _secret_ , anyway." Her voice wavered a little and she wasn't sure why. She wasn't upset, was she?

Andrea straightened. Her eyes flicked up to the Head table and then to her plate.

Katherine Wilkins cleared her throat. "No, I didn't mean…I just…"

"If I remember correctly," Macklesburg interjected smoothly, "you were scarcely sorted before Olthom's gang set upon you." Wilkins nodded. "And you wish to spare Sarah the same fate." Another nod.

Andrea's shoulders fell. "Oh." She took a deep breath. "I'm sorry for snapping."

Katherine swallowed. "I'm sorry for seeming like…like I did."

Sarah shrugged. "It's okay. Um, thank you. I don't know how _not_ to get their attention, though." She frowned at her goblet of pumpkin juice. "I already tripped over one of their carts at King's Cross Station."

The girls _tsked._ "That'll be tough, then," Katherine commiserated. "Olthom's got a long memory. Umbridge too, and she's worse. She acts like a delicate little girl, but she's more vicious than a Death Eater."

Macklesburg sighed. "Could we not keep thinking of ways to make this whole thing a negative experience?" She leaned closer to address Sarah. "Yes, in some ways this is going to be difficult. But honestly? If those Slytherins give you a hard time because your parents couldn't cast a Warming Charm, they're clearly morons who don't know you at all. You're a bright young witch with her whole life ahead of her, and you're going to be absolutely fine."

* * *

After breakfast, Fortescue led the Gryffindor first-years down to the greenhouses for their very first lesson: Herbology.

There Sarah was delighted to see Caroline Honeysett again, and the two girls got to sit next to each other during class. "Are Hufflepuff and Gryffindor going to be taking classes together in all the subjects?" Sarah asked excitedly.

Caroline opened up her timetable, which she had already color-coded somehow. "I don't know, what've you got next period?"

"Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Oh, I've got History of Magic."

Disappointed, Sarah looked over their timetables and discovered that not only did they not have any other classes together that day, they didn't share any other classes all week. "Oh, that's—"

But Caroline would never know what that was, because at that moment class began with three loud claps at the front of the greenhouse. The students quieted down and looked forward, to the teacher surveying all of them. "Hello. My name is Professor Sprout, and I will be teaching you Herbology." Professor Sprout was a kind woman, rather plump with many laugh lines around her eyes and the tendency to touch her fingers to her lips and then the leaves of whatever plant she happened to be passing at the moment. She seemed exceptionally overjoyed to be teaching, which Sarah could not remember any of her other teachers being.

(Granted, her memory only reached back to when she had already attended their classes and her teachers knew what to expect.)

For their first lesson, Professor Sprout taught them how to prepare pots for planting. At first Sarah thought it would be the same as her flowerbed at home, but apparently witches did things differently. Sprout showed them how to sift the earth through their fingers as they scooped it into the pots by hand — "And no using a Levitation Charm, either, or your plants will come out all wilted and unhappy!" — and she told them a little charm to sing that didn't require a wand, just "that little bit of magic in music, dears." This, she explained, would infuse the soil with enough magic to feed the newborn plants, which they would seed in the next lesson.

Ivy Nelson asked if the Hufflepuffs had an unfair advantage, being connected to the earth as they were.

Her partner, Teresa Rosslyn, snorted. "I don't think so. I've got such a black thumb I'd be surprised if my pot grows anything at all."

Professor Sprout's face scrunched up in a way Sarah found surprisingly adorable. "Oh, that's mostly an old witch's tale. I think on average, we badgers _do_ find it easier to connect with earth magics, but it comes down to hard work and care no matter what House you're from."

Marcellus Cruxton laughed. "But Hufflepuffs _are_ known for their hard work!"

The class got a little out of hand, students good-naturedly accusing their classmates of cheating with innate House characteristics, before Professor Sprout could wrangle them back into shape.

* * *

Valerius Aldbar watched his first year students file into the room and no expression crossed his face as the Gryffindors and Slytherins automatically split in two groups and seated themselves on each side of the classroom. When the last student had entered, he raised his wand and flicked it at the door. It swung shut with neither a slam or a quiet click, but with a creaking _shhhhh_ that evoked feelings of old dungeons and damp stones and instantly subdued the first years.

Sarah shifted in her chosen seat at the front, close enough to see Aldbar. He had been so nice before, and now he was all dark and expressionless.

"My name is Professor Valerius Aldbar," he said finally, silencing the curious murmurs of the students. "I will be teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts this year, and it is unlikely that I shall return next year."

Sarah remembered the jinx the older students spoke of, and how no DADA professor had lasted longer than a year without being seriously injured, embarrassed, or otherwise incapacitated. Some said He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named had jinxed the position, while others said that was ridiculous— while glancing around as though to make sure no one had heard this opinion.

"For this reason," Aldbar continued, "I will be teaching you everything I can in a very short amount of time. You will, at least, have a solid basis in Defense Against the Dark Arts which will serve you well in the coming years." He looked around the room once more and narrowed his eyes at the clearly defined line between Gryffindor and Slytherin. Then he opened his mouth and said the words that Sarah would remember years later, and which would be quite possibly the most valuably thing she ever learned in all her seven years of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

"Your first lesson will be this: _everyone_ has the potential to be an ally. To demonstrate, you will partner with a member of the opposite House, and sit next to them for the rest of the year in this class."

Gaping stares met this command, followed by glares from serpent to lion and gritted teeth. Sarah thought _Muggleborn Death Eaters You-Know-Who Slytherins Dark wizards danger danger danger_ and swallowed. She looked over at the Slytherins and noted their hostility. _I'm a Gryffindor,_ she thought, _that means I'm brave and daring_ , and her House's reputation gave her the courage to stand. Marcellus and Andrea quickly followed suit, with Patrick Fawley, a Slytherin, standing up next. Soon all the first-years were standing. Sarah cautiously slid one foot forward and straightened her shoulders, trying to decide which Slytherin would be most likely to accept her as a partner. Perhaps none of them…she knew Avery and Selwyn, at least…

Meriwether coughed. "Faramond?"

A girl Sarah hadn't noticed before straightened in surprise. "You?" she asked.

Meriwether cleared his throat. "Yeah, why not?"

Faramond shrugged. "Might as well." With that, she swept to the back and took a seat, Meriwether cautiously sitting beside her.

Owain Caran half-raised his hand before lowering it quickly.

One of the Slytherin boys suddenly grinned. "How's about it, Caran? You and me against the world, til death do us part?" _Fawley,_ Sarah remembered with a smile. He looked nice. And he'd been standing beside Avery, who looked to be valiantly ignoring Selwyn on his other side. The new pair took a seat near the back.

Sarah suddenly realised that she had to pair up and claim a desk or the one she wanted would be gone. She took a breath — and a boy appeared in front of her.

"Truce?" Avery asked quietly.

Sarah squinted. "We weren't at war in the first place," she said without thinking.

Avery's eyebrows rose. The corner of his mouth pulled up. "Janus Avery," he said, holding his hand out.

Sarah took it. "Sarah Williams." They shook. "Do you want a seat at the front?"

"Sure."

Sarah claimed her previous seat with a victorious shake of her hair.

Avery laughed. "You must have wanted that seat badly."

Professor Aldbar interrupted Sarah's response. "If you will not decide for yourselves, I shall assign you your partner." He pointed to two desks at the front. "Barrett, Crouch." The pair glared at each other but shuffled into their new seats nonetheless. Apparently the fact that both were made to do something they did not want to do caused them to view Aldbar as the common enemy, for they turned similar glares on their teacher.

"Cruxton, Gordon" had the same reaction.

"Oh, honestly, it's not that bad," Sarah muttered. "You'd think we were being asked to sit with a Lethifold."

Avery looked at her curiously. "You know what a Lethifold is?"

Sarah frowned. "Well, yeah. I read _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them._ " And she couldn't help it: she clutched her chest and fell back in her seat. "Help, help, a Lethifold's got me!" she whisper-cried dramatically.

Avery laughed out loud. "You're a piece of work, Williams."

Sarah sat back up again. "I just liked that story, is all."

"Goldstone, Dorsey."

"Nelson, Mariner."

Avery was frowning. "Is he just pairing us by the alphabet?"

Sarah shook her head. "If he'd wanted to do that, he would have done it earlier."

The other boy tapped his wand on his desk. "Before Fawley and I chose," he murmured.

"What?"

"Never mind."

Selwyn's called out, "All right, it's down to Lowell and Sorbius, right? So I've got to pick one of them?"

Professor Aldbar folded his arms. "Aye, if you want to view it that way."

Sarah twisted in her seat, curious as to how her two Housemates were taking this. "Oh, we are an odd man out," she realized.

Halvard Sorbius cleared his throat. "You said we could choose someone from the opposite House?"

Aldbar grunted.

"May I sit next to _you_ , sir?"

Aldbar smiled. "You may."

 _Oh, clever._ Sarah smiled.

Lowell's jaw dropped. "Oh gee, thanks, Sorbius." He stomped forward and threw himself into a seat.

Selwyn cocked his head. He slid into the seat beside Sorbius, which happened to be behind Sarah's, and leaned toward his seatmate. "Afraid of a little snake, are we?"

Sorbius glared at him. "No. I just don't want to sit next to someone who said he _wants_ to be one of Olthom's thugs." The Gryffindor slumped further into his seat. "Baby Death Eater," he grumbled.

"Ten points from Gryffindor, Mr. Sorbius," Aldbar called from the front. Sorbius jumped. "In this class we will not refer to our schoolmates as Death Eaters, am I understood?"

"Yes, Professor Aldbar," the students chorused.

"Good. And thank you, gentlemen, for illustrating my second lesson: rumors can do almost as much damage as Dark magic."

"Is that why you aren't talking about why you quit the Aurory?" Selwyn wondered.

Aldbar's thumb tapped his sleeve three times. "Are you quite insistent on testing my boundaries, Mr. Selwyn? This early in the lesson?"

"Why? What are you going to do about it? I'm just asking a question. Aren't teachers supposed to answer questions?"

Aldbar grinned.

For the first time, Sarah felt apprehensive when she looked at the kind old man. Beside her, Avery sighed. "Selwyn, you idiot…"

"Detention, Mr. Selwyn," Aldbar announced. Selwyn cried out. "To answer your question: No, I will not tolerate disrespect in my classroom, no matter how you choose to hide it, or whether you're from my House or not. You will see Mr. Filch about cleaning the Owlery after lunch."

Several snickers echoed through the classroom.

"Lowell, Barrett, Fawley, Gordon, five points each for mocking a fellow student. I believe I said I would not tolerate disrespect. I dislike repeating myself."

The class was completely silent.

 _Does he notice_ everything? _How?_ Sarah wondered.

Professor Aldbar looked around. "Now. Shall we begin again? I am Professor Aldbar. I will be teaching you Defense Against the Dark Arts, as well as Idiocy, with apparent remedial lessons in Basic Human Decency. I will not allow one man's war to spill into you children without you even noticing. Everything I teach you will help you not only survive against Dark magic, but navigate the world beyond Hogwarts. Pay attention: _everything counts."_

* * *

After a Defense lesson which was as much about not laughing at other people as it was learning to cast a Shield Charm over their seatmate, the students made their way to the Great Hall for lunch. A good half of the first-years hung back at first, looking from Aldbar to their House tables and back again, trying to figure out if they would be penalized for sitting by themselves or if they were supposed to remain paired up. This hesitation lasted about as long as it took for the boys to smell the food, at which point they rushed forward. The resulting jam left Sarah without the seat she'd had at breakfast, and she sat down in the first empty spot she saw, which happened to be between Owain Caran and Ivy Nelson. Across was an older girl with her head buried in a book. Sarah thought she recognized her.

"What did you think of Professor Aldbar?" Ivy asked.

Sarah hesitated. "He's… very thorough."

The bookworm snapped her head up. "What text is he using? Should I study extra? I have him in fourth period and I won't have time to get to the library first…"

"Oh, Librenna!" Sarah exclaimed. The older girl's brows furrowed. "I just…remembered your name," Sarah said weakly.

Ivy giggled.

 _That's the second time I've done that!_

Librenna shook her head. "Forget that, what can you tell me about Professor Aldbar? You said he was thorough."

Caran said through a mouthful of something, "He just notices everything you do. A lot of it wasn't really Defense."

Sarah frowned. "Well, kind of. He's trying to keep any of us from turning Dark in the first place."

"But I'm not Dark."

"Neither am I, but I'm sure lots of people have thought that and then—"

"Just make sure you don't make fun of any Slytherins and you should be fine," Ivy reassured her.

Librenna sighed. "Oh, that kind of teacher. More of the 'behave, children' type?"

The three first-years nodded.

"With scary-good hearing," Caran added.

The three nodded again, eyes wide.

Librenna smiled. "Oh, well we can do that, easy. I wonder what his lesson will be like, though, for the NEWT classes…" And that was the end of her conversation for the rest of the meal.

After lunch, Sarah consulted her timetable. "Oh, we don't have any classes until Astronomy! What are we supposed to do, then?"

"Learn your way to the library?" Macklesburg suggested with a smile. She raised a hand. "First-year Gryffindors, follow me! We've got a free period and a castle to explore!"

The boys cheered (with the exception of Meriwether, who had spilled pumpkin juice all over his robes during lunch) and everyone set off. Sarah tried to memorize the turns and staircases and gave up. "How do you remember which way to go?"

"Practice," the seventh-year said cheerfully. "And lots and lots of repetition. You'll need to come to the library at least three times a week your first year, if not more. The weekends are good for studying, of course, but I'll be in NEWT classes all day and won't be able to show you lot around. You'll have to know where to go before then."

"So you're like our tour guide," Cruxton summed up.

"No, I'm like a prefect. I show you the most direct and easy-to-remember way of getting somewhere, and by the end of the year you'll have found your own shortcuts. I won't tell you where they are; you'll have that for a surprise. Oh, here we are!" Macklesburg announced, pushing a door open.

She showed them good places to study, and introduced them again to Morpheus Ratigan, the Head Librarian, and his assistant, Madam Pince. She gave them a few pointers about which books to check out for the homework they had to do before leaving for her own classes.

 _I like her,_ Sarah decided.

Morpheus Ratigan was a funny old man who fell asleep more often than not. Madam Pince could be relied upon to know pretty much everything, but she also had a sixth sense not unlike Professor Aldbar's keen hearing that had her swooping on poor unsuspecting Gryffindors who _desecrated_ her precious books with _ink, how_ dare _you, Christopher Lowell?!_

Sarah, to be perfectly honest, spent most of the library trip perfecting her quill writing. She felt quite elegant and princess-like at first, carefully dipping the nib into the inkwell and setting it to parchment — real, live parchment! Then she learned that quills were horrible things that spilled ink all over everything, and it was a very good thing that her robes were black.

* * *

Dinner saw the "surreptitious" evaluation of a new teacher, the Astronomy mistress, Professor McKinnon. She seemed to be a kind-looking woman, laughing with Professor Sprout, and Sarah was hopeful that she would be pleasant as well.

That night, it turned out she was rather quiet, if firm. When Meriwether dropped his telescope and Cynthia Evergreen laughed, Professor McKinnon instantly docked her five points and calmly informed the class that petty rivalry would not be permitted — all without raising her eyes from where she was helping Kimball Lee with his star charts. Sarah thought Professor McKinnon must be a mother. Her telescope drooped as she thought of Linda. Sarah stared up at the night sky, brilliant stars like diamonds across the dark blue expanse.

 _Are you watching me from up there, Mum? Are you proud of me? I wonder what you would have thought of the Wizarding world._

"Jupiter is in the fourth quadrant, Miss Williams," Professor McKinnon interrupted her musings, not unkindly. Sarah ducked her head, blushing, and raised her telescope once again.

 _I'll do you proud, Mum. Promise._

The class found various stars and planets and trooped back to their dorms exhausted, but happy.

Sarah lay on her bed that evening, staring at her warm red bed curtains, (thick wool socks snug around her feet) and drifted off to sleep with a smile.

* * *

 _A/N: Hey look, an update! It's only terribly late but hey at least it's here? Anyway. Thank you all so much for your patience. Hopefully I've gotten into the swing of things (and acquired an incredibly helpful guilt monkey) and updates should be more regular once again. I thought of a scene between Avery, Sarah, and Jareth in Grimmauld Place and now I have to get through like fourteen years to write it if I write in order._

 _Sigh._

 _Motivation is motivation, I guess._


	7. The First Week

The next morning Sarah was awoken by the sound of shouting. It took her a couple seconds to remember that she was at Hogwarts, after which she recognized the raised voice as Andrea's.

"My hair is beautiful and perfect, and I will _shatter_ you if you don't _sod._ _Off_!"

 _Is she…shouting at the mirror?_

Sarah sat up, though the curtains blocked her view of the room.

"Give it a rest, Goldstone!" Drusilla called. "You can't change anything in the dorms; the teachers wouldn't let us."

"YES I CAN!"

Sarah unfastened one side of her curtain and peeked out. She could see Andrea in the bathroom, wand pointed in front of her, teeth bared, face flushed red. _"Speculum Infringetur!"_ She paused, then her wand lowered. "Tomorrow I think I'll wear my wellies and a top hat to class," she said in quite a normal voice.

And Sarah could hear nothing beyond Ivy Nelson's giggle.

Andrea raised both fists in the air. "I did it! She's quiet!"

The curtains of the bed across the room from Sarah's flung wide. "Congratulations," Drusilla said dryly. "You've managed to make her what you aren't."

Andrea leaned around the doorframe. "Hush, I am riding high on a wave of success. You'll thank me in the mornings." She turned back to the mirror and flicked her wand at her face, the bright red color fading.

"Ooh, how did you do that?" Sarah wondered.

Andrea tweaked her robes. "Didn't your Mum—" She broke off and stared at Sarah. "Oh, I'm so sorry; I forgot you weren't— that—I mean, you wouldn't know—"

Ivy bounced a little on her bed. "Most of those kinds of charms are passed on from mother to daughter," she told Sarah. "Hair spells and dress straightening spells and things like that."

"Or shoe spells, like the one for taking your slippers off," Drusilla added, stepping closer.

Sarah looked back at her wand on the nightstand where she'd forgotten about it. "I guess I'm not used to being a witch yet," she murmured.

Drusilla took her hand. "It's all right; we can teach you."

Andrea had crossed the room and took her other hand. "And I would be more than happy to show you my impressive array of talking object-silencing hexes. My aunt used to keep putting one on my journal that would scream at me if I didn't write it for a day. It only took me a month to figure that one out, and I was eight."

"You must be pretty talented," Ivy commented. "My Mum was Muggleborn, so she didn't learn anything from Granny either."

"She was?" Sarah asked in surprise. Ivy gave a small smile and the two girls reveled in being similar.

Andrea and Drusilla looked at each other and nodded. "We'll show you both, then," Drusilla said.

"We'll start with hair charms," Andrea decided, tapping her wand on her chin.

"No," Drusilla countered, "clothing. You have to get dressed before you can fix your hair."

"But hair is important! Being allowed to cast spells on each other's hair means you're friends!"

Drusilla hesitated. "Okay," she admitted, "that's a good point."

"It does?" Ivy wondered.

Drusilla nodded. "Cause there's lots of curses and potions that take someone's hair, so it's a sign of trust to let other people do magic on your hair." She wound a strand around her finger thoughtfully.

Ivy absently stroked her own hair. "So this would make us friends?"

"We're already friends," Andrea said, waving a hand. "That's why we can do this."

Drusilla looked at the clock and gasped. "We don't have time for everything. Why don't we get dressed first and then we can each do one of you?"

Ivy and Sarah looked at each other. "Sure," Sarah shrugged, "sounds good."

And after getting dressed — Ivy in the bathroom, Sarah and Drusilla in the dorm while Andrea sat on her bed with the curtains pulled — the four young witches swept their hair up in pretty styles.

Andrea insisted the mirror would have approved if it "hadn't the eyesight of a bat in broad daylight."

* * *

At breakfast Ivy and Sarah sat together, across from what appeared to be Macklesburg's usual spot and between Katherine Wilkins and Marcellus Cruxton.

Remembering the day before, Sarah asked Katherine if she had any advice for her and Ivy. The second-year thought a minute before responding. "Don't cause trouble in class," she said at last. "The Slytherins won't be too nasty if they know the teachers like you."

This seemed like excellent advice, and the girls thanked her.

Talk turned to the day's classes, on whether or not Professor McGonagall would be nice to them because they were in her House, and if asking Professor Flitwick for advice on hair charms could be considered "causing trouble in class".

Sarah was once again fascinated by the owls bringing in the mail. This time better prepared, she watched the various owls landing at the table. Some seemed to have a vibrant personality, preening until their recipients noticed their beauty before sweeping off majestically. Others seemed quite taken with the bacon on the students' plates, which resulted in Ferdinand Meriwether once again getting his hand bitten as he tried to protect his food.

Gilbert Fortescue told him laughingly that he had to pay the owls in _some_ way for bringing his mail all the way from Surrey.

* * *

Their first class of the day was Charms. Professor Flitwick was a fun little man enthusiastic about teaching his students. He calmly ignored Selwyn's murmurs about his height and 'possible elfish ancestry, just look at him.' Perhaps he hadn't heard. He sat up on a pile of books peering over his desk at the class. "Now, Professor Aldbar tells me he paired each of you up in his class, and I must say, that seems a bright idea. I want each of you to sit next to the same person you sat next to in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

Sighs and groans met this statement — though quietly, as though Professor Aldbar was hiding behind Flitwick's desk just waiting for someone to insult a Slytherin or vice versa.

(Professor Aldbar's lessons were proving surprisingly unforgettable.)

Sarah joined Avery at the front, passing Fawley who smiled brightly at her on his way to the back with Caran.

"Excellent, excellent," Flitwick said. "I understand you began learning the Shield Charm yesterday, which is a charm that can be cast around a person. A charm like it is the Warming Charm, which will come in very handy here at Hogwarts.

"Especially for someone small enough to be buried in a snow drift," Selwyn whispered from behind Sarah.

"Hush!" she whispered back.

"Pay attention, Miss Williams," Flitwick said.

Sarah sunk into her seat a little. Not even five minutes into the class and she had already been called out? She remembered what Wilkins had said that morning and sighed, determined not to let Selwyn get to her.

Like they had in Defense, they cast the charm on each other. Avery was already proficient at the spell, which Sarah found grossly unfair.

Avery showed her how the charm worked better when you were thinking of a desert when you cast it, and she had an easier time after that.

* * *

After Charms one of the younger Slytherin prefects showed them to the Transfiguration classroom.

Professor McGonagall allowed them to sit where they wanted, but as this was the third class in a row they'd had together, everyone automatically ended up in mostly the same seats except for Lowell, who left a space between him and Selwyn.

Instead of the friendly face Sarah was familiar with, Professor McGonagall surveyed her class without a trace of emotion. "Transfiguration is some of the most complex magic you will learn at Hogwarts. I expect everyone to pay close attention and do the work assigned; anything less will result in a Troll mark, which as you may know is the failing grade. There are no second chances."

She did not appear to be joking.

Throughout the lesson — turning matchsticks into needles — she was strict but fair, as Professor Aldbar had been, taking points away from each House. She did seem a little more biased towards Gryffindor, however. She took points from Avery for laughing at Owain Caran's needle, which had somehow set itself on fire. However, when Christopher Lowell joked about Selwyn's failure, she did nothing.

Marcellus Cruxton pointed this out, and she seemed surprised. "I don't see the harm in Lowell's joke, Mr Cruxton, but Avery was mocking, which is much worse."

"No he wasn't," Sarah said instantly. "We learned that yesterday. Mocking is insulting, laughter is sharing. It _is_ funny that Caran's needle was on fire. And it _is_ funny that Selwyn's matchstick duplicated instead of turning into a needle. The jokes were the same. If you were going to punish one, you should punish both."

Avery was staring at her.

"But if you weren't going to punish Lowell, you shouldn't have punished Avery," Sarah finished. She crossed her arms waiting for McGonagall's response.

The class was absolutely silent.

McGonagall raised an eyebrow. "You are correct, Miss Williams. Five points to Slytherin, Mr Avery."

Sarah smiled.

The professor looked around the room for a moment. "I see Aldbar has been teaching you fairness, and you are already learning. One thing I hope you won't need to learn — though I doubt you will be able to avoid it — is how to say when you are wrong. It's much more difficult, especially after so long. You did well, Mr Cruxton, in pointing out what I'd done. Have a care, however— I will not tolerate cheek or disrespect."

"Difficult to disrespect a teacher if Aldbar's in the castle," Selwyn piped up, making everyone laugh. He appeared startled for a moment, and then gave a smile which much improved his looks.

McGonagall grinned, then continued her lesson.

* * *

After lunch, the first year Gryffindors headed off to their next class: History of Magic.

Cuthbert Binns, Sarah mused idly, could be said to have talked himself to death. This struck her as a terribly witty thing to think, and she amused herself throughout the rest of the incredibly dull lecture by thinking up other witty things. It had been exciting at first, to have a real live ghost (the irony, Sarah thought with shining eyes) glide through the blackboard and introduce himself as their teacher, but after the first ten minutes… perhaps even the first five… the first years learned that Professor Binns was rather boring.

Which was a shame, Sarah thought as she filed out of the classroom, because she thought the Goblin Wars sounded eerily ominous and would have been interesting had anyone else taught it.

* * *

One thing Professor McGonagall's students didn't care for was the amount of homework she'd set them. The more industrious students (Ivy, Drusilla, Cruxton) left for the library while the others spent the afternoon playing Gobstones.

At 3:30, they made their way down to the Quidditch pitch for their flying lesson.

That afternoon, Sarah discovered that Professor Hooch was strict but fair.

And that she _loved_ flying.

It had taken her a few tries to get the broom to respond to her, but once it had leapt into her hand she had felt a thrum go through her and had thought of sitting on it and flying through the air, the wind blowing her hair back…

Patrick Fawley had taken to his broom rather quickly, causing Professor Hooch to comment that he must have practiced at home. He had grinned at her and nodded, and she had awarded five points to Slytherin for correctly obeying her instructions.

Sarah had won five points for Gryffindor for also obeying instructions, and beamed at the others as they smiled at her.

The rest of the day was spent mostly in the common room, getting to know the other students in her House. She learned how to play Exploding Snap and though by the end of the afternoon she had singed the tips of her hair she was deemed 'pretty good' for a new player.

* * *

The next day, a group of 17 students stopped before the door to the Potions classroom and stared at it for a while. Then, with an ominous creak, the heavy door swung inward, revealing a large, dark room. "Enter," came a low voice from within, and the students stepped cautiously forward, Marcellus and Andrea among the first inside.

Sarah looked around in subdued wonder. So this was Potions class. Once again the students fell into their pattern of paired desks, though the Potions classroom was oriented a little differently than Transfiguration or Defense. The tables were smaller, two cauldrons each, and spaced in a square shape rather than a rectangle. She noticed how damp the Potions classroom was, and wondered how far beneath the surface they were, here. Practically in the dungeons, as Drusilla had said that morning.

The first years were nervous and unsure of what they should be doing, and ended up staring at the head of the classroom and the tall figure of Professor Snape. They shuffled under his casual stare, murmuring amongst themselves. Sarah looked at her Potions book and opened the cover. She read through the index, wondering of what possible use the cure for boils could be.

 _It's not like they grow boil-causing plants in the Herbology class, right?_

She frowned.

 _Right?_

Professor Snape finally moved, drawing her attention and that of the entire class. Sarah felt something familiar from watching him, like she'd seen him — or someone — do this before…

"Good morning." Somehow, the slow way he said the words made them sound interesting.

 _I_ know _I've seen this before somewhere—_

"Only your mind will limit the subtle science and exact art of potion-making." Snape slowly surveyed the room as he spoke, meeting the eyes of every one of his students. "I, as Potions Master, can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death."

 _Mum,_ Sarah thought suddenly. _Mum talks the same way when she's delivering her first speech. "Capturing attention and interest with the first movement, before you even get to the first word, much less the first sentence, will hold your audience riveted to you and only you."  
_

"What I _cannot_ do," Professor Snape continued, "is prevent the entire class from exploding their cauldrons simultaneously. That much depends on you, and your _firm adherence_ to my instructions." He flicked his wand at the board, and instructions for the Cure For Boils appeared in a spiky script. "I expect," Snape said firmly, "you to _not continue_ if you are unsure of what you are doing. I would rather you get a T on the day's potion than have you sent to the Hospital Wing for an entirely preventable accident. Do I make myself clear?"

And Sarah Williams, whose subconscious was busy thinking of her mother and how she'd tried to imitate her by sounding witty and smart, responded without thinking. "Clear as the crystal phials we're using, sir!"

Her eyes widened and she stared at Professor Snape, who seemed legitimately surprised to hear anyone verbally respond. _Rhetorical question!_ Sarah thought to herself somewhat hysterically.

The class began to murmur to themselves.

Professor Snape adjusted his sleeves. "Excellent," he said mildly. "You may gather the ingredients I have listed and begin."

However magical the castle was, there was no force on earth that could prevent 17 students from trying to enter the same tiny closet at the same time.  
(16, perhaps, as it took Sarah a few moments to beat down her embarrassed blush.)

It was something of a mad scramble and the 11-year-olds did not quite have the reasoning necessary to figure out backing up on their own. Marcellus Cruxton and Andrea reached the storeroom at the exact same time as two other Slytherins, Vipera Crouch and Geoffrey Gordon. Crouch and Gordon glared at them for a moment, and then pushed past them to get in first. Marcellus straightened and Andrea gasped, her hand going to her wand.

"Miss Goldstone, do refrain from any animosity," Snape said, making Sarah jump as she hadn't realized he was even paying attention, much less could see through the crowd. "It would be such a pity if Gryffindor lost points within the first few minutes." The Slytherins gave a few laughs. "Mr Gordon," he continued, "three points from Slytherin for malicious brute force, and a further two for making me take points from my own House. _Do not_ make me do it again."

Avery was smiling as he and Sarah gathered their ingredients. Sarah was confused. "Didn't you just lose points?"

"Aldbar's too subtle for Gordon," he explained. "Snape's making it obvious what he wants from us."

Sarah hadn't thought of it that way. "Are all Slytherins so sneaky?"

Avery shrugged.

Professor Snape's voice drifted inside. "Mr. Fawley, please do inform the class as to what potion you are making."

Sarah hurried to her seat in time to see Patrick Fawley glance from his pile of goose feathers to the professor. "Cure For Boils, sir," he said confidently.

"Indeed," Snape drawled. "From what ingredients is that potion made?"

Fawley cleared his throat. "Horned slugs, porcupine quills, and beetle eyes," he rattled off, hardly needing to look at his book or the instructions on the board.

Snape drew himself up. "Then how, pray tell, is the Boil-Cure made from _goose. Feathers."_

Fawley blinked. "It isn't."

"Then why do you have them on your desk?"

Fawley looked up at his teacher and flashed a grin. "For tickling fellow students, sir."

Professor Snape closed his eyes and shook his head. "Return them to the storeroom, Mr. Fawley. If you are to succeed in this classroom, you will do it on your own merit as a brewer." As Fawley gathered up his goose feathers — still grinning — Snape looked around at the class, twirling one goose feather between two fingers absently. "We are dealing with volatile ingredients in this class. Interrupting another student's brewing — though admittedly clever —"

Fawley's grin grew and he actually swept Snape a short bow, to chuckles from the rest of the Slytherins and most of the Gryffindors.

"— when combined with a failure to follow instructions, as Mr. Caran has done in adding 12 entire horned slugs, instead of thinly slicing 6—" Snape held the goose feather above Owain Caran's cauldron and held the eyes of Patrick Fawley, whose grin finally began to fade. "Such a reaction can be…" He dropped the feather and the class jumped.

Nothing happened.

Drusilla was the first to laugh, and the rest of the class nervously followed suit.

Sarah was watching Snape who had stood back, arms crossed. She followed his gaze to Caran's cauldron, just in time to catch the explosion of grey smoke pouring over the rim like a volcano.

Several girls screamed, Caran squeaked and jumped back, bumping into Perderus Johnson.

Sarah snapped her gaze back to Snape.

He was smiling.

"Cataclysmic," he finished, flicking his wand over the cauldron and banishing the contents. "Ten points each, Misters Fawley and Caran, for such a…dynamic object lesson." The class was stunned silent for a short while. Snape raised an eyebrow. "You have forty-nine minutes to complete your potion. Any questions?"

Half a dozen students hurriedly returned ingredients they hadn't needed back to the storeroom and the rest got to work.

There were no more interruptions.

After she carefully ladled her potion into one of her phials without something as simple as a funnel, Sarah turned in her potion at the end of class which, while not as good as it could have been, was still the color and viscosity — she loved that word — it should be.

Afterward, surrounded by the voices of her classmates excitedly discussing how Snape had almost blown them all up, she found herself almost skipping along the corridors.

So this was Potions class.

* * *

At lunch Macklesburg informed them that they'd have to find their way to that afternoon's Defense class on their own. Sarah felt ready for such an endeavor, having always had a keen sense of direction. She looked forward to seeing Professor Aldbar again, and was even more excited to see Caroline at their Herbology lesson later.

She later blamed aforesaid excitement on distracting her and causing her to be late. Aldbar said nothing but disapproval was plain in his eyes. She sunk into her seat with a sigh.

Avery leaned toward her. "Did you ask the portraits for help?"

"The portraits?" Sarah asked, confused.

Her seatmate nodded, eyes widening. "The paintings along all the walls. They've been here for centuries, after all, and know where all the classrooms are."

Sarah let her head fall to her desk with a groan. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"So long as you remember in the future," Aldbar said, causing her to sit upright with a yelp. She exchanged glances with Avery and saw the same awestruck look in his eyes that was likely in hers. He'd been _across the room._ How did he _always_ know what they were saying?

For the day's lesson they resumed practice on their Shield Charms, after which Professor Aldbar gave a lecture on spells which the Shield Charm couldn't stop.

Towards the end of the lesson, Marcellus Cruxton asked what they should do if one of the teachers wasn't being fair.

Aldbar grinned. "Gossip flying faster than a snitch in this school, I know what you're referring to. You handled it well, Mr. Cruxton, and thankfully Professor McGonagall provided an excellent example. However, some adults are not quite so open-minded." He paused, running a finger over his spiky beard. "Life isn't fair, and people - especially adults - are even worse. Do what you can, so you can sleep with a mind clear of regret."

He surveyed the class and nodded to himself. "For extra credit, you may turn in an essay next Friday on what you would have done if McGonagall _hadn't_ responded well to being told she was wrong." The students nodded eagerly and his eyes narrowed. "I should mention that this optional essay is in _addition_ to the one-foot mandatory essay about Shield Charms which is due on Monday." A couple quiet sighs met this and he chuckled. "Class dismissed."

* * *

At the Herbology lesson Sarah caught up with Caroline and the two determined to meet up in the library to begin their homework. They found a pleasantly lit area near the Charms section and whiled away the afternoon quite happily indeed.

It should be admitted that most of the time was spent exchanging stories about their Housemates and the classes they'd taken so far. Caroline wouldn't have a Potions class until Tuesday, but she was assured that Snape was a fascinating teacher. Sarah found it odd that the Hufflepuffs weren't paired up with anyone for their Defense lessons, and Caroline wondered how anyone got anything done with two Houses so famously at odds in the same classroom. "Doesn't Fawley tease everyone?"

Apparently, their joint Astronomy lesson with the Slytherins the night before had been more of a lesson on how much Teresa Rosslyn would take before snapping. "Not much," Caroline remembered, eyes wide. "Then again, Fawley was pushing her pretty hard. Grace thinks he likes her." She shook her head. "Boys are dumb."

"Is that so, ickle badger?"

Sarah tensed at Olthom's voice. She looked up to see him smirking down at Caroline, flanked by Wilkes and Umbridge as usual. The library suddenly seemed empty in an ominous way it had not before. Were all seventh-years so tall?

Umbridge laughed, sounding very young and girlish. "It seems to me that two little firsties are the dumb ones, for being out without anyone to protect you."

Sarah frowned. "Protect us from what?"

The three older students laughed loudly at that, as though she'd said something hilarious. They crept closer and Sarah flinched, which made them laugh again.

"I heard," Wilkes said, fingering his wand, "that you were trying to get Avery's attention."

Olthom snorted. "Trying to get on his good side, I bet. Poor Mudbloods like you need all the help they can get."

Caroline bristled. "She just sits next to him in class like Professor Aldbar said!"

Wilkes bent down, digging his wand into Sarah's chest. "But that blood-traitor Aldbar isn't here, is he?" he snarled.

Umbridge clicked her tongue. "Foolish of him."

"We don't want any trouble, Wilkes," Caroline said carefully.

Wilkes' eyes were alight with a strange fevered tint. "Aldbar should have thought of that before he murdered my brother," he snapped, and jabbed his wand at her. _"Faciem Ignis!"_

Sarah remembered too late the Shield Charm and could only watch in horror as a sickly red light struck Caroline. Her friend screamed and clutched her face, which had grown red like she'd had a sunburn. Sarah stood, meaning to go to her, when Olthom shoved her back into her seat.

"You're going to stay there, you useless Mudblood," he sneered. "How could you help anyway?"

Sarah mostly ignored him, focused on Caroline's whimpered moans. The odd sunburn-like curse seemed to be getting worse, as though flames lingered just under her skin.

 _Flames..._

All Sarah's peaceful reading before class hadn't been for nothing, hopefully. She flicked her wand and hoped the charm worked. _"Ignis Inermus."  
_ The red color faded and Caroline sighed in relief. Sarah smiled and then glared up at the three older students. "Go away."

Wilkes was grinning. "That won't work for long, you know. It's the wrong counter-spell."

Umbridge tittered. "Can't even do that right?"

True, the Flame-Freezing Charm was meant for actual flames, but surely it would work for whatever kind of burning spell this was?

Caroline yelped and grabbed her face again. Sarah's heart sank. They'd just keep doing this, wouldn't they? Wilkes pointed his wand at her. "Your turn, Mudblood."

"What in Merlin's name is going on here?" a stern voice demanded, making all five students jump.

Sarah looked up to see Madam Pince studying them with narrowed eyes. "They attacked us!" Sarah said.

"Please, my face hurts," Caroline pleaded.

Madam Pince withdrew her wand and flicked it over Caroline. "For shame, Wilkes. Detention with me at 8, and thirty points from Slytherin. I will not tolerate any bullying in my library, do you understand me?"

Olthom swayed back on his heels, a careless smile tugging at his lips. "You won't catch us teaching little firsties new spells, ma'am."

This, Sarah took accurately to mean that he would be careful not to get caught, not that he'd stop.

Madam Pince watched them go. "I'm terribly sorry I didn't catch them earlier," she said to the two girls. "Maybe next time sit somewhere I can see you, and give a call if you need me."

An older male voice shouted, "Irma!" and Madam Pince sighed. "I'd better see what Morpheus wants. Will you two be all right?"

Caroline sniffed. "I don't understand," she said quietly.

Sarah scowled. "If they're mad at Aldbar they shouldn't take it out on us." She thought back on what Wilkes had said. She knew Aldbar wouldn't murder anyone, but Aurors had to kill Death Eaters sometimes, didn't they?

 _Was Wilkes' brother a Death Eater?_

 _It doesn't matter._

"It's not fair," she muttered.

Madam Pince nodded. "Perhaps you'd better get to your dorms for now. Bullies like them don't usually pick on groups of four or more, so next time you visit the library take several friends."

Sarah and Caroline stood. Sarah angrily shuffled her parchments into her bag. _We shouldn't have to change just because of them! It's not fair!_

"IRMA!"

"Coming!" Madam Pince picked up two of the books. "I'll check these out for you; come along."

Caroline and Sarah followed her to the main desk, subdued. "I wish we could stay longer," Caroline said as Madam Pince stamped their books.

"Me too. Maybe tomorrow I can get Macklesburg to come with us or something." As Sarah left, she heard Morpheus Ratigan loudly demanding that his assistant find his sugar quill before Peeves absconded with it.

The two friends hesitated at the intersection where they had to part ways. At least the corridors were slightly filled, students coming and going from various classes. "I'll see you tomorrow then, if I can," Caroline said.

"See you tomorrow." Sarah hugged her and then made her way through the corridors as quickly as she could, still stewing over the way Olthom's gang had treated them.

* * *

The next day being Saturday, Sarah didn't have any classes. She'd told the other Gryffindors what had happened and the prefects had chided her for going off alone. Katherine Wilkins decided to study with her and they were joined by Marcellus Cruxton, Andrea, Drusilla, Owain Caran, and Christopher Lowell. Librenna led them to the library after breakfast where they met Caroline's group. Sarah recognized Teresa Rosslyn and Reginald Venwood, along with a few others she didn't know that well. Aurelia Ingram had apparently heard from Teresa Rosslyn what they were planning, and she had dragged her friends Kimball Lee and Grace Willaton with her.

After the group had introduced themselves to each other, they claimed one of the big tables and set to work.

At one point Olthom's gang sauntered into the library and Sarah was surprised to see Rosslyn stand up with her hands on her hips and order them to find somewhere else to study. She hadn't thought Hufflepuff was a house for the brave, though perhaps the large group at her back gave Teresa courage.

(Perhaps not. Teresa Rosslyn gave the impression of being fully capable of taking on all three older students at once, _without_ a wand.)

Apparently deciding to choose easier targets, Olthom turned back around, his two lackeys following him out.

Madam Pince nodded at Rosslyn, her lips twitching in a small smile.

When it was time for lunch the group left en masse, and Sarah found herself so cheered by the camaraderie that she couldn't stop smiling.

* * *

 _A/N: Welp I suck at timely installments. Anyway. Here it is. I'm probably being out of character re: an 11-year-old's grasp of politics, but hey. Politics fascinate me. What did you think of Snape's first lesson, by the way? I figured he - if not the immature bully Harry knows - would try controlling his class the most dynamic way he could, and he'd also want them to actually like him the way they liked Slughorn._

 _And I do think an actress' daughter would be quite spell-bound by Severus Drama King Snape's first-year speech.  
_

 _Also._

 _House Points will be awarded to whoever manages to figure out which other fandom I've taken a few characters from (and how many). It's not a true crossover, I'm just borrowing personalities. Names. Etc._

 _March 10, 2017_


	8. The Swing of Things

Wednesday dawned cheerful and bright. Andrea Goldstone was humming as she brushed her hair, and Sarah found herself wishing they could wear something other than black robes. Today was a sunny dress kind of day, and she decided to wear the dress she had packed under her school robes, instead of the shirt and trousers she normally wore. This made her feel even more cheerful, and she hummed tunelessly as she skipped down the circular staircase. Once in the common room, she plopped down on a red couch beside Ivy Nelson, who was quietly reading a book.

"Good morning!" Sarah chirped.

The younger girl shifted. "'Morning," she mumbled.

Sarah was not to be deterred, not with the knowledge that she was wearing an obscenely yellow dress under her robes. "Whatcha reading?"

Ivy flicked her eyes over Sarah as though wondering what had happened and then fastened once more on her book. "A book," she replied.

Sarah briefly warred with herself over whether to commit the grievously impolite sin of leaning over to see for herself what it was, or the equally annoying offense of continuing to badger the other girl. She saw the other girl relax. "What book?" she asked.

Ivy sighed heavily and closed the book, keeping her fingers between the pages, and held it up so Sarah could see. " _Magical Drafts and Potions_ , given that we have Potions homework due tomorrow. It seemed like a good idea."

"Oh." Sarah tapped her foot on the plush carpet. "Yes. That would be." She cleared her throat. "Sorry. I'm just… excited."

"What for?" Ivy wondered, lowering the book slightly.

Sarah grinned at her. "Everything. I still can't really believe I'm here." She looked around the common room, to one corner where the boys were playing Exploding Snap, to another where the first years were trying out the last of their Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans and laughing with each other, to the other couches where a few of her other Housemates were conversing with each other. She looked at the walls and the tapestries and the moving portraits and the great red and gold banners. "It's so…"

"Magical," Ivy finished quietly. Sarah looked at her and saw a small half-smile about her lips, which excited her as the other girl rarely smiled. Good. Perhaps her own good mood was contagious. "I… my mum was a witch, you know, and she went to Hogwarts, but she never said much about it. She preferred living like a Muggle with my dad, I think, and never really talked about the wizarding world at all." Ivy traced her finger over the looping _A_ of _Arsenius Jigger_. Sarah was quiet, letting the other girl think. "I feel more like a Muggle-born than a half-blood, sometimes."

Sarah hummed. "Me too."

This startled a laugh out of Ivy, drawing the attention of a few of the others in the common room. Sarah beamed back at her.

Sarah Williams and Ivy Nelson departed for the Great Hall that morning side-by-side, each smiling with the knowledge that they had found a new friend.

* * *

The cheerful morning was not to be, however. Sarah had sat between Ivy and Katherine Wilkins, who received the _Daily Prophet_ , the wizarding world's daily newspaper. Wilkins' owl dropped the paper onto the table, narrowly avoiding her bowl of oatmeal, and flew off before she could feed it. "Nutter of an owl," Katherine muttered as she reached for the paper. She unrolled it and drew in a sharp gasp, which Sarah heard begin to echo around the Great Hall.

The big black letters of the headline caught her attention and she gave a soft gasp of her own as she read it.

 **DEATH EATERS ATTACK MUGGLE HOME, FIVE KILLED!**

The article had a picture of a burnt house above which hovered a big cloudy image, that of a skull with a snake writhing out of its mouth.

"The Dark Mark," Sarah heard in hushed whispers around the Hall. She looked around in confusion. Students were looking at each other in horror and worry and fear…  
Except for the Slytherins, who mostly looked…

Smug.

Pleased.

As though this was what they had wanted.

As though they had _achieved_ something here. Sarah saw Wilkes grinning at the paper and pointing out something to Olthom and Selwyn, who was seated next to them. Wilkes looked like he knew something. Like he'd had something to do with the picture in the paper and was proud of it.

Sarah couldn't see how. Then she remembered Aldbar's words as he'd pulled her from their midst. _"Their families are all Death Eaters."_ She looked to the Head Table and her eyes were caught by the young professor at the end.

Snape was studying his House's table with a cocked head, neither approval nor disapproval in his expression. Goodness, why not? Look, there was Professor Aldbar right beside him, scowling at the Slytherins as though he would like to use them as targets in the next Defense Against the Dark Arts lesson. As Sarah watched, Aldbar looked at the younger man on his right and his scowl deepened. He leaned in and hissed something, causing Snape's calm expression to harden. Snape looked around the Great Hall and paused as his eyes met Sarah's. She felt like he could see right through her, and quickly dropped her eyes to her plate. When she dared to look back up, he was eating his breakfast as though nothing were the matter, Aldbar's continued scowl now fixed on his plate, from which he did not eat.

Wilkins thunked her spoon down on the table with a loud clatter, breaking Sarah from her stupor. "Look at them," she growled, staring at the Slytherins. "Bunch of Death Eaters."

Ivy flinched and drew in on herself. Sarah stared at her bowl, at the little lumps of oatmeal, and wondered what had happened to her beautiful, cheerful morning, and what she could do to get it back.

* * *

Nothing, apparently, was the answer as Sarah tripped over Selwyn's foot and fell to the floor, jarring her arms with the effort of keeping her face from smashing into the stones. Her books slid out of her bag and the parchments scattered all over the floor. As she began sitting up, she heard cruel laughter all around her and she flinched. "That look suits you, Mudblood," the dry voice of Vipera Crouch sneered.

Sarah bent her head to hide her eyes as they filled with tears. Her fingers flexed on the stones, longing to curl into fists.

"On your knees where you belong," Selwyn said. She heard more laughter. Her eyes hardened. They were still tear-filled, but she didn't care anymore. She raised her head and glared at Selwyn, who laughed harder. "A Gryffindor, crying?" he crooned sarcastically. "Aldbar isn't here to protect you now. Your kind is going to lose."

Sarah jumped up at that, ready to prove him wrong. But as she opened her mouth to respond, Dorothea Macklesburg stepped in front of her.

"Lose what? Your daddy's war?" The prefect crossed her arms. "If he was right — if he even had a _point_ — You-Know-Who wouldn't need to kill defenseless people. The Death Eaters are just a bunch of racist bullies taking any excuse they can to hurt people. You're _wrong_ , and that makes _you_ the loser."

Selwyn sneered at her. "We'll see."

Dorothea sighed. "You will, for certain. Twenty points from Slytherin for behavior ill becoming a human being, much less a wizard from what used to be a respectable family."

The older students around Selwyn shifted restlessly at this. "Just leave it, Selwyn," an older girl said. "Before you make it worse."

"Fine." But Selwyn was glaring at Sarah as he said it, and she knew he wasn't going to forget any time soon.

* * *

The tension in the Defense class that morning sat thick and heavy around the room, silencing most pre-class chatter. No one had dared sit anywhere they weren't supposed to, but that didn't mean they had to like it. Professor Aldbar was a little late. Selwyn, whose seat was behind Sarah's, tapped his wand on his desk and she imagined it pointed at her…ready to cast a spell…maybe a curse like the face-burning hex Wilkes had used on Caroline…and she wouldn't see it coming. Her hands trembled on the desk. Should she turn around? Watch him closely?

"Knock, knock."

The entire class turned and stared at Patrick Fawley in shock. His cheeks flushed a little but other than that he didn't react. "Come on; knock, knock."

Owain Caran took a small breath. "Who's there?"

"A snake, mind if I slither in?"

Everyone chuckled a little. Caran looked confused. "That's not how you tell a knock knock joke."

Fawley frowned. "Isn't it? Perhaps you've been telling them wrong. Go on, show me how it's done."

Owain barely even hesitated. "Knock knock."

"Who's there?"

"Interrupting cow."

"Interrupting c—"

"Moo!"

This time everyone's laughs were louder; more genuine. Fawley's grin grew wider. "I see, I see. A proper knock knock joke should involve animals." He gave an exaggerated frown of confusion. "But mine involved a snake, so I don't see—"

"No," Caran protested, "that's not what I meant!"

"Well clearly, I'm going to need another example."

"That example can wait until after class, Mr Fawley." The class stilled at Professor Aldbar's voice. He sounded like he was behind them, but he wasn't there. The students looked around in confusion.

 _"Homenum Revelio,"_ Avery muttered at Sarah's side. A yellow light swept the room and infused each student with a quiet glow. A similar glow flared from a point near Aldbar's desk and Avery cocked his head. _"Finite Incantatem,"_ he said, flicking his wand at the glow.

Professor Aldbar appeared as though an unseen curtain was being drawn away. He smiled briefly. "Excellent work, Mr Avery. Ten points to Slytherin." He looked around the room and his brows drew together. "So, I hear you've already managed to get at each other's throats, blindly following whatever your parents — or the sensational _Prophet_ — are telling you. How disappointing."

Everyone sat up straighter.

"People are _dead_."

The room was silent.

"Lives have been snuffed out and you're honestly going to sit here and attack each other in the corridors? Gang up on each other whenever you have a chance? I expected better."

Sarah felt tears stinging at her eyes and she swallowed. She wanted to insist that she hadn't done any of those things, that it was all them, and he shouldn't be angry at her. She wanted him to like her.

Professor Aldbar sighed heavily. "Ah. I see no one's been telling you that this isn't one-sided. The Gryffindors don't have much high ground to stand on either: hexing younger students, lying to teachers in hopes of getting a fellow student in trouble, bullying… none of you are better than anyone else."

Sarah stared at him in amazement. Who would…who would do that? Why would anyone?

"No, I won't name names. I'm sure it'll get around the school eventually." He tapped his boot on the floor as he surveyed the classroom once again.

"All right," he said at last, crossing his arms. "You want to jinx each other? Then we will."

He lined them up and had them practice their Shield Charms, and then he taught them the Knockback Jinx. Sarah liked the thought of it, like a magical punch that could reach further than her arms and send her opponent flying across the room. She couldn't wait to try it out.

"Before you begin," Aldbar said suddenly, deliberately casual, "I should inform you of this lesson's parameters. Each pair of you will take turns casting the jinx at the opposing team. You will get points _only_ for every time your Shield Charm successfully deflects a Knockback Jinx. You will not get any points for casting the jinx. You will not get any points for your jinx hitting another student. You will not even get any points if your jinx hits a shield."

His lips twitched in a half-smile or a grimace; it was hard to tell with his beard, as he took in the class' dismayed expressions.

"Yes, little ones. This is a practical lesson, and you can only get a passing grade if you place yourself in harm's way and your partner casts a charm to protect you."

Vipera Crouch pointed out. "The other team doesn't get any points if you don't cast _Impedimenta._ "

"True," Aldbar conceded. "Neither do you."

Avery was grinning a little, a light in his eyes Sarah didn't understand. She frowned at him and he explained, "We have to work together. He's a genius, really."

Sarah could see that, a little, but still… "Slytherins," she said, shaking her head. _Way too clever for me._ She saw Selwyn raise his wand towards Avery. _"Protego,"_ she cast over Avery, just as Selwyn's quiet _Impedimenta_ would have struck her partner. The Knockback Jinx's red light struck the faint blue aura of the Shield Charm and bounced away, hitting the ceiling. "I did it!" she crowed.

"That you did. One point." Professor Aldbar waved his wand over the far side of the room and a chart with all their names appeared in glowing green script. A black tally mark appeared after Sarah's name. "A passing grade is ten points. Begin."

Thus passed one of the most interesting lessons Sarah had ever been part of. It took a while for them to get into the swing of things, bitter students with friends who'd been hurt by an opposing House's relative trying their hardest to jinx the other team, regardless of the lesson's objective. After a while (and a pointed reminder of the ever-dwindling time from their teacher) they realized this wasn't going to get them any points and they reluctantly waited until their target was shielded. Eventually each team paired up with another team and took turns casting the jinx at each other while their partner shielded them.

The students left feeling accomplished, everyone having passed the lesson.

* * *

Only a few students — Ivy, Drusilla, Avery, Eugenia Faramond, Vipera Crouch, and Fawley — took the time to thank their teacher for giving them such an unexpected feeling of unity.

Valerius Aldbar returned their smiles, and quietly asked them to remember that feeling when it got harder to achieve.

They promised to do so.

* * *

After lunch Sarah's study group gained a few additions: Avery, Fawley, and Faramond. The three Slytherins sat with their partners from DADA and resolutely ignored any curious looks as they studied for tomorrow's Transfiguration homework.

(Well, Avery and Faramond studied. Patrick Fawley and Owain Caran broke away from the group halfway through to practice Tickling Hexes on each other. Grace Willaton and Teresa Rosslyn glared at them almost as fiercely as Madam Pince. The Library Assistant looked ready to Silence them at a moment's notice, but Morpheus Ratigan wouldn't let her.)

After supper Andrea showed Sarah how to send letters by owl, and she spent the evening writing to her father about her days at Hogwarts.

The Astronomy lesson that night was quiet and peaceful. Professor McKinnon dismissed them with an absentminded smile, fingering the locket which rested above her heart.

* * *

Sarah found herself resting on the slope of a red hill. Whereas she would have normally classified the auburn grass as dying or diseased somehow, here with the breeze playing with her hair she did not even consider it strange. It simply was the way it was — here the grass was a beautiful orange-red. It matched the sky rather nicely, Sarah thought.

A voice danced along the breezes, a woman's voice humming a tuneless song. Sarah looked around for the source. Nearby a tiny yellow flower bent in the breeze. Its negligible shadow lengthened and grew, until a woman stepped out from behind it as though it were the most normal thing in the world. She wore a black dress tattered in a purposeful way, with green thorny vines stitched into the hems. Her brown eyes flashed with delight. "Why hello, darling!" she exclaimed.

"You're younger than I thought," Sarah realized. Her eyes widened; she hadn't meant to say it out loud.

The woman laughed, throwing herself down beside Sarah. "Oh, yes. I'm older too, of course, but at the moment I'm feeling quite young." She looked out over the fields, to where a stone wall rose in the distance. "Quite an auspicious day, this," she commented idly.

"How so?"

"It's a queen's birthday. She's two years old today."

Sarah quite liked the idea, only something about it struck her as off. "Wouldn't that make her a princess?"

Her companion laughed again. "No, darling, not a princess." She looked at Sarah as though they were in on a joke together, though Sarah hadn't the faintest idea what it could have been. After a bit she turned her head away to the wall again.

Sarah traced the woman's profile with her eyes, thinking it looked familiar though she couldn't say why.

The corner of the woman's mouth lifted in a smirk. "Curiosity killed the cub," she warned. Her form grew indistinct, and she laughed as she faded.

"I thought it was a cat," Sarah said, and found herself staring up at her bedroom curtains.

"Thought what was a cat?" Andrea asked from across the room.

"Oh, just a dream."

But unlike most of her other dreams, this one did not fade upon waking, and stayed with Sarah all day. She fell asleep hoping to dream of the woman again, but woke the next day without a glimpse.

As opposed to the lighthearted feeling of yesterday, Sarah walked into the Great Hall for breakfast feeling as though the ceiling might come down at any moment. The Head Table was mostly empty, as it had been the previous Sunday. Professor Snape was watching the students and Sarah felt suddenly as though someone's cauldron was about to overflow and he was waiting to see their reactions.

 _But what is he waiting for?_

Just then the owls flew into the Hall, setting the Daily Prophet down in students' porridge bowls and hooting as they flew away. Sarah heard several gasps and a few shrieks, and leaned over to study Ivy's copy of the wizarding newspaper.

 **DORCAS MEADOWES MURDERED BY YOU-KNOW-WHO HIMSELF!**

In horrified silence, Sarah and Ivy read the article. It seemed that Dorcas Meadowes had spoken out the week before about what she called the Ministry of Magic's "outdated stance on Muggles" and urged her fellow witches and wizards to oppose the "rabid fear-mongering of lunatics like Riddle."

"Who's Riddle?" Sarah asked at last.

"I don't know," Ivy whispered. "Must be a Death Eater or something." She looked up and flinched.

Sarah's heart sank. She knew what she would find, and she was correct:

The Slytherin table was congratulating themselves again.

* * *

Thus began one of the most awful months of Sarah's life. Every day it seemed the paper reported a new death, some new attack. Every day the Slytherins grew bolder until they weren't even hiding their reactions from the teachers. By the middle of October everyone knew whose parents were probably Death Eaters. Dueling in the corridors became a daily, if not hourly, occurrence. Madam Pomphrey was soon overwhelmed with new arrivals, including Sarah and her friends when Olthom's gang attacked the first-years in the library. After that Macklesburg and Fortescue insisted they take a prefect with them anywhere they went.

One of the few things that didn't change around Hogwarts was the Defense Against the Dark Arts class. Professor Aldbar held absolute control over his class, and no one dared test him. He still paired them up and he still had them defending each other and he still tolerated no bullying from anyone. Sarah liked to think that Selwyn (one of the students who made no secret of his father being involved in the weekly attacks) and the other like-minded Slytherins appreciated the fairness, but outside Defense they acted the same.

It had to be said that a few of the Slytherins — like Avery, Fawley, and Faramond — not only didn't follow the more outspoken purebloods, but actively stood against them. Some of the hexes the "baby Death Eaters" (a phrase which would not disappear no matter how many detentions Aldbar and McGonagall assigned for it) used were known only to Slytherin House, and the ones who became known to their Housemates as 'Aldbar's Turncoats' taught the counter-curses to their classmates, shielding them in the corridors as they went to and from class, defending them when their backs were turned.

By the time Sarah was introduced to the sport of Quidditch, the entire school was looking forward to the games with such enthusiasm that everyone flooded the stands to watch the Ravenclaw team begin their training. The day would stand out in students' memories for years to come, but not necessarily just for the Quidditch.

After the year's first training day, which happened to be on a Saturday, the students split off to the common rooms. The older students talked Quidditch tactics and odds, beginning the betting pools, while the younger students resigned themselves to another weekend studying. However, no amount of ingrained habits could keep the excited children from louder noise than normal. They should have noticed the lack of someone telling them to be quiet. They should have noticed the blank space near the librarian's desk.

They did not.

They did not notice anything out of the ordinary, not until Peeves dove into their table, screaming, "DEATH! DEATH IN THE LIBRARY!"

Ivy screamed and jumped up. Marcellus rolled his eyes. "Knock it off, Peeves."

The poltergeist turned, his lower half still stuck in the table, and wiggled his eyebrows. _"Marky Wellus doesn't know what Peeves has figured out,"_ he chanted in a sing-song voice. _"Marky Wellus doesn't see what Peeves can see from here—"_ he soared up and floated near the ceiling, giggling at the corner. _"Death in the library, a dead man at the desk. Death in the library, a dead rat at the desk."_

Aurelia gasped. "Mr. Ratigan!" she exclaimed, jumping up.

Sarah's face drained of color. "Oh no," she whispered, following Aurelia. The rest of the study group trotted after them, murmuring and shoving each other. Aurelia tiptoed up to the desk. "Mr. Ratigan?" she asked, voice far too quiet to be heard. She cleared her throat. "Mr Ratigan?" she called, louder.

 _"Ratty wizard can't hear you, Ratigan is dead,"_ Peeves chanted.

Sarah looked over the counter and froze. The old librarian was curled up on the floor, apparently having fallen from his chair. A shriek erupted from right next to her ear and she jumped as Philomela Nightingale screamed beside her. "He's dead!"

The cry was picked up by the study group, who backed away from the counter, leaving Gilbert Fortescue and Dorothea Macklesburg staring at the old wizard in shock. Peeves was giggling to himself, still composing rhymes about Mr Ratigan.

"Here now," a kind voice interrupted their panic, "what's all this?"

Sarah relaxed at the soothing authority in the voice, finally tearing her gaze from Mr. Ratigan to look at Professor Dumbledore, who was twinkling at all of them. The group started explaining all at once, each talking over the other. Dumbledore held up a hand, shaking his head. "One at a time please. Miss Williams?"

"Mr. Ratigan, sir, he's…" Sarah broke off, as the knowledge hit her once again. She stared at the Headmaster in confused shock.

"Sleeping," Dumbledore finished.

Sarah gaped at him.

Dumbledore smiled. "If you look closer, you'll see that he's just sleeping. In an unconventional position, granted, but he is not dead, as our dear poltergeist would have you believe."

Peeves cackled from the rafters. "Peeves tricked you!" he shouted gleefully.

The group peered over the desk once again, staring until they saw the rise and fall of the old librarian's chest.

"How did you know?" Sarah asked, awed at Dumbledore's omnipotence.

The Headmaster shrugged. "How does anyone know anything?" He clapped his hands and Mr. Ratigan jerked awake.

"Wha— whaz gon on?" he mumbled.

"You've fallen asleep, Morpheus." Dumbledore ignored the Ravenclaws' smiles at this sentence.

Mr. Ratigan struggled to his feet. "So I have," he said, not looking at the Headmaster. "It's the roast and potatoes at dinner."

"You missed lunch," Dumbledore said calmly.

Silence reigned while Mr. Ratigan steadfastly avoided the headmaster's gaze. Finally, he sighed heavily. "All right; replace me then. I'm getting too old, I know."

"Replace? We could never replace you."

Peeves chose that moment to compose a new song to Morpheus Ratigan's impending retirement.

 _"Ratty wizard's lost a job_  
 _He'll have to eat out with the hogs_  
 _Old librarian's slept like a log_  
 _And bumped his old fat nob!"_

With this last line, he knocked one of the bookshelves over, batting a book at the librarian, who ducked in the nick of time. Peeves cackled to himself and zoomed out of the library, swirling through another bookshelf on the way out.

Dumbledore waved his wand, setting everything to rights again, and smiled gently at Mr. Ratigan, who was staring despondently at his desk. "Chin up, Morpheus. You'll finally be out of this drafty old castle when winter hits, and you know Madam Pince will look after your books quite well."

This seemed to cheer Dumbledore up far more than it did Mr. Ratigan.

It soon became known as Morpheus' Sleepday, and somehow or another Peeves' song got out and could be heard hummed by the students as they entered the library. Aurelia and Sarah's group tried to cheer up their librarian, but he only shook his head sadly at them whenever they tried to say anything.  
The next Monday at breakfast Professor Dumbledore stood and made an announcement. Madam Irma Pince would be taking up the position of Head Librarian.

* * *

School fell into a rhythm after that. Hogwarts braced itself for the morning news, which usually reported an attack on a Muggle or an Auror's attack on a Death Eater, and the day was spent with the affected parties relieving stress by insulting and hexing where they could. Usually by lunch the more boisterous students had been reprimanded enough to have mellowed out a bit, and the afternoon was spent in classes or studying. After dinner, by common consensus, the students stayed in their common rooms until curfew.

The routine, while comforting for those still getting used to the upheaval, did not lessen the effects of the war.

Wizards were hunted down and killed, like Fabian and Gideon Prewett. The Aurors were relentless in their pursuit of the Death Eaters, oftentimes leaving scenes indistinguishable from those left by their targets. Neighbors reported on neighbors. No one knew who was on who's side. Friends gathered around each other and did not spread outwards. Those lucky enough to have already been included by the end of October were safe, but anyone out of those circles was unfortunately destined to stay there.

The worst part was when whole families were slaughtered.

First it had been the Bones', and then to everyone's horror, the McKinnons. Professor McKinnon had screamed when she saw her daughter's family laid out in that morning's paper. It had taken Madam Pomphrey and Professor McGonagall to escort her out of the Great Hall. For the rest of the year she was much quieter, oftentimes crying in the middle of a lesson, but she refused to give up teaching. She insisted on finishing her job, saying it was what Marlene would have wanted.

Sarah would never forget the woman's quiet strength, nor the gut-wrenching sound of her sorrow that morning.

Everyone drew in on themselves, the silent plea for it all to end, for someone to stop it.

Surely someone, somewhere, could stop the Dark Lord?

* * *

 _A/N: oh Nimue's knickers this is late. I haven't given up on this story, though! I have a total of 11 chapters planned, along with the prologue and an epilogue. (Because...13, that's why.) Originally I was going to write all of Sarah's years at school, and I still might, but apparently both myself and a couple readers are anxious to see Jareth. He's not necessarily in this one, but... I might just write her Labyrinth and see where we go from there._

 _(I also might go through these later and polish them up a bit, but if I start posting then hopefully I will gain a momentum which should be difficult to stop? idk brain.)_

 _I quite liked Valerius Aldbar's solution to House squabbling here. It's like when my sister and I were fighting and Mom told us to go outside and literally fight each other and we just stared at each other and started laughing and that was the end of it. Only, he's a bit sneakier. What did you think?_

 _Also. Given that one specific picture of the Order that Moody gave Harry, there was apparently a lot of deaths in the Order just before Halloween. This could be extrapolated by knowing that the picture contained Marlene McKinnon, whose death was mentioned in a letter sent from Lily to Sirius which also mentioned that Dumbledore had borrowed James' Cloak, which Dumbledore stated elsewhere was "a few days before" the Potters were killed. Ergo, everyone in that picture mentioned by Moody as having died before Voldemort was defeated had to have died before Oct 31, 1981._

 _[Or, more likely, JKR isn't as persnickety re: maths as her devoted fans.]_

 _[or i am waaaaay too prone to procrastinating on the Harry Potter Wiki in the name of "research"]_

 _I decided to keep it, though. I'm headcanoning here that when Voldemort killed Meadowes (side note: before and after his defeat by Lily he personally kills two Order members. Both are women and one is a Hufflepuff. Just saying.) he searched through her mind before finishing her off. Even if Dumbledore had created a barrier in the Order's minds so the others couldn't have been discovered, Voldemort has proven himself able to break through such 'impossible' obstacles before. (Like breaking through the powerful Memory Charm Barty Crouch Sr placed on Bertha Jorkins) In her memories, Lord Voldemort saw various persons in the Order, which then made a list he had his Death Eaters kill off._

 _That or Pettigrew sucks._

 _Or, better idea, Pettigrew heard about what had been done to Dorcas Meadowes and switched sides. Either way. In this universe, Meadowes was the catalyst for the Death Eaters to start specifically targeting the Order of the Phoenix, which drove Lily and James into hiding, and we all know how that turned out.  
_

 _(April 27, 2017. Wow. ok.)_


	9. Celebrations and Accusations

Saturday, October 31, 1981, at first seemed like any other day. Breakfast was subdued and quiet, many of the students having slept in. The castle corridors were filled with students telling spooky stories. One thing Sarah particularly enjoyed were the ghost stories, which unlike the Muggle version were told by the ghosts themselves. For example, Nearly Headless Nick, the Gryffindor House ghost, told anyone who would listen the tale of how he had been beheaded, despite fierce protestations by his fellow ghosts that his head hadn't actually been cut all the way off and therefore did not count as a 'beheading'.

After breakfast while the older students had their lessons Sarah met with what she now thought of as 'her' study group in the library. By now they had learned to simply arrive en masse on the days Dorothea Macklesburg or another prefect couldn't show up. Once they had claimed their chairs they began on the homework due Monday.

They, in this case, did not always refer to Patrick Fawley, who seemed to be making a game of conjuring bats without catching Madam Pince's attention. This then devolved into making the bats flutter about Grace Willaton's head without her noticing and without Owain Caran Banishing them.

Kimball Lee, to Teresa Rosslyn's quiet seething outrage, not only didn't discourage him but gave him pointers on what shape the bats' ears should be.

(This was why the boys - apart from Marcellus Cruxton and Janus Avery- had their own table.)

* * *

Sarah's normal Saturday lunch seemed...not so normal. The Slytherins were subdued and rather than arrogantly gossiping about the latest attack, they were murmuring quietly with each other. They looked worried about something. Snape did not sweep the tables with his usual half-amused glittering eyes but stared down at his lunch plate, looking pale and drawn. Professor Aldbar had switched seats with McGonagall and was speaking with Dumbledore, who looked to be trying to reassure him about something. McGonagall and McKinnon glared at the Slytherin table.

The strangest part was how Sybil Trelawney looked alert instead of her usual daze, rumored to be the effects of too much sherry. The Divination teacher seemed to be searching for someone, or waiting for something to happen. She kept looking down the Head Table at Dumbledore, her expression somewhere between confusion and knowing.

Sarah cocked her head, curiosity overwhelming her. She crossed her ankles under the bench, her toes peeking through her sandals to tap on the stone floor. _I wish I knew what she was thinking._

Trelawney's head whipped around and her gaze fastened on Sarah's. For once the eyes behind the round glasses did not look permanently startled. She looked rather oddly like McGonagall, when she knew exactly what you had done.

 _But I_ didn't _do anything._

Professor Trelawney shook herself and went back to her meal.

* * *

After lunch the Gryffindor Quidditch team was practicing, and most of the students wandered out to watch. The whole school was excited for the first match, which would take place next month. Gryffindor vs Slytherin. Sarah sat with Andrea in the stands of the Quidditch pitch, resting her head on her hands, and thinking about House rivalry, as she seemed to be doing more and more lately. Why were they so against each other? Was it really that important? Were all Slytherins Death Eaters, like some Gryffindors seemed to think? Sarah remembered Eugenia Faramond, who had smiled excitedly in History of Magic when they learned about the Important Pussywillow of Marchbanks and had been overheard discussing travel plans later. She remembered Patrick Fawley, who had gently pulled Grace Willaton out of the way when Peeves was flying towards her. She remembered Janus Avery, who had taught her the counter-curse to Wilkes' Burning Face Hex.

She remembered Valerius Aldbar, an Auror even Dumbledore seemed to respect.

Surely, _surely_ Slytherins weren't all evil.

Then why did everyone keep treating them as though they were?

A despondent Sarah made her way down to the Great Hall for dinner that evening. The magnificent decorations drew her out of her black thoughts and she gasped and stared with all the other first-years. Instead of the floating candles, the Great Hall was lit by floating jack-o-lanterns. Charmed bats flitted high under the enchanted ceiling, looking more like dark shadows beneath the glittering stars than anything.

And the food was delicious. All kinds of dishes were laid out on the long tables, and the students dug in with relish. Either the Slytherins had gotten over whatever they had been distressed about or were hiding it better, and they tucked into their meal as enthusiastically as any other House. Even the staff looked excited. Pomona Sprout clapped her hands when a thick meat pie appeared on her plates and Hagrid grinned at his plate full of squash like it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. Even Professor Aldbar was smiling. Snape and Trelawney were missing. Sarah put all thoughts of the teachers out of her head and concentrated on her caramel apple. She felt the excitement of the student body leaking through the air, and a tingling sensation ran up through her toes and she fancied the castle itself was excited about something. She kept grinning.

At the end, the ghosts appeared through the walls, performing a complicated dance routine that resulted in thunderous applause from all four Houses. The students retired to their common rooms with happy smiles on their faces, and a stuffed Sarah lounged on one of the couches in the common room with her friends.

But all good things must come to an end, and the prefects ushered them up to their rooms sooner than everyone would have liked. Sarah lay in her bed while the lingering excitement of her first Halloween Feast at Hogwarts slipped slowly away. She became aware of a tenseness. She could not tell where it came from, she only knew that someone, somewhere in the castle was nervous about something. It felt like an adult was pacing in a room just beyond the walls, a parent waiting for news of a child in danger, a teacher waiting for knowledge, a guardian waiting to know if their gambit had paid off, a general waiting for news of battle. Sarah had no idea why she felt this way, and closed her eyes, trying to be rid of the unwelcome sensation.

Without being aware of it, she slipped into sleep. While she dreamed, events which would shape her world unfolded.

* * *

 _A shapeless figure swarmed in the dark, unknowable and eternal. This was something that had existed for thousands of years, waiting in the dark and the night, ever patient and always hungry, the foundation of nightmares for the entire length of human memory. It twisted and moved— one could perceive a vague body, if one managed to focus past the overwhelming panic and concentrate on the heart of the shifting shape. There was will in the heart and determination in the head and hands to carry out what it wanted._

 _(what it wished)_

 _The writhing movement lent the air of pacing, of a ravenous lion waiting for the door of his cage to open, of a predator waiting to be let loosed upon the defenseless animals just beyond his reach._

 _"Soon," the figure whispered, in a voice of the fire beneath the mountains.  
_

 _Eventually yet after only a moment, the figure stilled._

 _"The veil is thin." A light flared. If one had the talent, the particular branch of magic required, one could see that it was something like a viewing crystal. The figure of shifting shadows cradled the crystal in its hands. "Show me the world of my chosen," it crooned. The crystal flickered with a sickly green light and through it could be seen a small village, lights lit for the night. A few children ran to and fro, dressed in all sorts of costumes. "Mockeries," the figure hissed, though it was pleased. "How quickly you forget why your ancestors hid their face on this night." The image of the village bounced slightly, as though it were being viewed through someone else's eyes as they walked forward. Ahead could be seen a house, which was enshrouded in a thin mist the townspeople could not penetrate. The walker steadily approached the house and was stopped by a child running in front of him._

 _"Great costume," the child said, staring up at the viewer. "Are you the Grim Reaper?"  
_

 _The figure laughed. Had it been human, it might have bent double and lost breath with the force of its laughter._

 _(It wasn't human.)_

 _The walker paused, the image shifting from the house to the boy in front of him. The tips of black boots could be seen underneath elegant black robes, and long fingers twitched with the knowledge that they were not needed to intimidate this Muggle. The child grew nervous and scampered off, and the wizard resumed his march once more._

 _"Soon," the shifting shadows repeated, the word echoing throughout the blackness with a greater intensity than before. "Soon they will be mine once more."  
_

 _The walker stepped up to the house. He flicked his wrist and a wand fell into his ready fingers. A blast of magic blew the door in and it crashed to the floor. A man's voice shouted. "He's found us! Take Harry and run; I'll hold him off!"_

 _"No you won't," the shadowed figure hissed. "You have abandoned your defense, old friend."  
_

 _Indeed, the man on the couch had left his wand lying on the table, too far out of his reach, and it would take him too long to Summon it.  
_

 _The figure curled around the viewing crystal. "Claim him," it said softly._

 _ **"Avada Kedavra!"** A green bolt of light flew from the end of the dark wizard's wand and struck the man in the chest. He crumpled to the ground as his wand abruptly stopped its flight toward its owner. They both lay on the floor, devoid of purpose.  
_

 _For a moment time stood still. Something unknown and undefinable passed from what remained of the man's soul and the shadows grasped it greedily. "Foolish, foolish wand-wielder," it said. Time began once more._

 _A woman screamed. Magic flared around the floor above. The dark wizard made his way to the stairs and ascended. He could not see how the shadows had latched on to him, and he barely noticed the feeling anymore. Most men would not succumb to the Dark as he had, yet he was ready to step even further into the Dark's embrace.  
_

 _(Lord of the Dark, after all, was a title to be_ earned. _)_

 _The shadowy figure had to admit the wand had its uses as its carrier dismantled the woman's shoddy barriers with ease. He stepped through the doorway into a child's room, cluttered with toys and clothes. A woman stood protectively in front of a crib._

 _The child was the focus. The child was the target. The figure had already stretched through the weak attachment to its Lord and begun reaching towards the helpless infant._

 _And then human error intervened._

 _"Step aside," the wand wielder commanded._

 _"What?" the figure said. "You have a strange idea of nobility, Méirleach."_

 _The woman shook her head. "No. I won't let you hurt him."  
_

 _The shadowy figure paused his ethereal pacing, drawing back. "Wait," he murmured. "This is wrong."  
_

 _"You need not die," the Dark Lord said reasonably._

 _(offered)_

 _The woman shook her head again. "Move aside!"_

 _"No, don't!"_

 _"NO! YOU WILL NOT HURT HIM!"_

 ** _"Avada Kedavra!"_**

 _Three voices spoke, one after the other, and the end result was the mother dead on the floor. She had scratched her hand on something in all the chaos and the vivid red of the blood stood out on her arm. Something like a soft mist rose from her body and flitted over to the boy, now screaming in his crib. The Dark Lord raised his wand once more._

 _"No," the shadowed figure ordered, staring in horror at the mist as it solidified into a protective shield around every inch of the boy, "look at what she has done!"_

 _But its Méirlach could not hear it. He pointed his wand at the defenseless— so he thought— child and spoke the words which would kill once more. He braced, ready to consume as the ritual demanded. Arrogant to the point of stupidity and flushed with his previous victories, he began the ceremony before he should have. And at last, the Dark Lord used the spell which had never failed him._

 ** _"Avada Kedavra!"_**

 _The bolt of green light flowed from the end of his wand like it had twice before, but this time it struck the solidified shield and rebounded, striking his chest._

 _He collapsed, dead as his Words demanded._ _ _There was a blinding flash as his spells unleashed themselves, turning on their caster._ A tendril of darkness splintered out and sought the nearest thing of value - the boy. The rest, a (fractured) unknowable undefinable thing, passed into the shadow's horrified grasp.  
_

 _"You fool," the shapeless, dark figure breathed. "What have you_ done?"

* * *

Sarah dug her toes into the red soil of the hill facing the maze. Thunder rolled in the distance and the wind whipped her hair into a tangled mess. An owl flew over the maze. "What's he doing out in this storm?" Sarah wondered.

She had expected to see the same woman as last time. She had not even considered that someone else might exist here.

And when a dress flared out in the wind and bare feet stood firm on the red hill, for a moment Sarah thought it was the same person. She turned to her and started to greet her and then stopped and stared. The woman's dress was an earthy brown rather than black, made of a fabric between leather and linen. Her corset was layered and metallic, with a red sash like a scarf around her hips. On her forehead she bore a crest with a swirling design. Her hair fell in reddish brown ringlets around her face, which Sarah could never for the life of her remember or describe.

She simply _was._

The woman stood calm amid the storm, hands on her hips. "My princess," she said, and smiled. "How I've wanted to meet you." Her voice was as melodic as flute music and as deep as an earthquake, and as safe as a castle within a maze.

"Who are you?" Sarah asked.

The woman blinked. "Who do you know I am?"

"A queen? Wait- I don't know you," Sarah broke off, confused. "Don't you mean 'who do you think I am?'"

"What's said is said, my precious princess." Her lips turned up at the corners, and Sarah was reminded of the Mona Lisa. "I suppose I am a queen at the moment, if you look at it a certain way. My boy refuses to find one of his own so I've kept those awful women away." She shuddered. "They tried to _tame_ me," she shared as though speaking of a horror beyond words.

Sarah burst out laughing. "That's silly of them," she said without thinking.

The woman cocked her head. "Oh?"

"You can't be _tamed,_ I mean look at you!" Sarah gestured to her hair as it blew in the wind and the earth caressing her feet and her eyes which were much older than her face. Somehow, she managed to convey the absolute impossibility of taming one like her.

The woman swayed her hips, making her dress flare outwards. "But don't you want to?"

Sarah squinted at her. "No. I want to know you, but as you are."

"Ahhhh," the woman sighed happily, and threw herself down on the hill beside Sarah. She wrapped one arm around the girl's shoulders. "Tansy was right. I'm going to keep you, little princess."

Sarah felt quite secure in the woman's arms. "What are you a queen of?" she wondered. _Surely a majestic kingdom._

"I'm queen of Me," the woman said. "I wanted to meet you. And tonight, the borders of my kingdom are thin enough that I could. My boy did the same thing - you saw him flying out earlier."

Sarah looked back over the maze, confused. "Your son is an owl?"

The woman laughed and squeezed her shoulder. "I didn't say that, my little princess." She pressed a kiss to Sarah's hair. "Say hello to my sister."

Sarah awoke with a jolt, breathing heavily. _Sister?_ she thought in confusion, and then realized that the odd queen having a sister was not the strangest part of that dream. She laughed to herself and nestled back into her pillows, savoring the free morning.

No one ever got up early on a Sunday.

This was expected.

Most students even missed breakfast, and that was rather expected as well.

Sarah and the rest of the first year girls certainly did not expect to be awoken by a incoherent Ivy Nelson at approximately 9:45 in the morning. Her words were difficult to understand, as she was breathing heavily from having run all the way from the Great Hall up the stairs to their dorm. "The-the-the Dark-"

Sarah's heart sank. "More bad news?" she asked.

"He's _dead!"_

Ivy sighed heavily as though that was enough information for everyone to understand what had happened.

Drusilla made a noise halfway between a whimper and a groan. "Who is it this time?"

Ivy blinked, then shook her head wildly. "No, no, not anyone- _he's_ dead! You-Know-Who!"

The girls shot upright in their beds and stared at her for a long moment before they jumped out of bed and surrounded her, clamoring each other to ask _how_ and _when_ and _where_ and _are you sure._

Ivy pulled out a crumpled page from the _Daily Prophet_ and Drusilla and Sarah nearly tore it in their hurry to read it. **HARRY POTTER, THE BOY WHO LIVED, DEFEATS THE DARK LORD!**

* * *

Life at Hogwarts was different after that. The Slytherins walked around in a daze. The Dark Lord, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, had been defeated by a _child_. He had not been the all-powerful ruler he would have liked them to believe, after all. The entire wizarding world rejoiced, uncaring if they were seen in public by Muggles. November 1 soon held the record for the largest number of breaches of the Statute of Secrecy. The Minister of Magic, Millicent Bagnold, defended the celebrations by saying, "I assert our inalienable right to party."

However, not everything was as joyful. Soon the rest of the school learned that not all Gryffindors were the golden children they had been led to believe. The Monday morning edition of the _Daily Prophet_ informed them of Sirius Black's betrayal of the Potters, murder of his friend Peter Pettigrew, and slaughter of twelve Muggles. He was shipped off to Azkaban, the wizarding world's prison, without trial. Sarah thought this harsh, but rethought her position when a seventh year explained to her what a Secret-Keeper was. It was Sirius Black's fault the Potters were dead, and no one cared that he had not had a trial.

Some Death Eaters, like Bellatrix and Rodolphus Lestrange, continued to serve their master any way they could. Sarah was shocked to learn of their torture of two Aurors, friends of James and Lily Potter named Alice and Frank Longbottom. Bellatrix's repeated use of the Cruciatus curse caused them to lose their minds and they were moved permanently to St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. They left behind a son, a little boy named Neville, who was transferred to his grandmother's care.

Later another Death Eater, Igor Karkarof, revealed that the Head of Magical Law Enforcement, Bartemius Crouch, had a son who had been involved in the sadistic attack. Crouch, who was being seriously considered as the next Minister of Magic, did everything he could to distance himself from the Dark, even sentencing his own son to be Kissed by the Dementors. Crouch had a reputation for fighting fire with fire, and set his Aurors on the Death Eaters with a vengeance. They were given authority to use the Unforgivable Curses and had soon begun capturing - or killing - almost all of Lord Voldemort's followers.

(The day the _Prophet_ reported his decision was the first and only day Valerius Aldbar stormed out of the Great Hall without even touching his meal.)

Some of the Death Eaters the Aurors captured claimed to have done all their evil deeds under the influence of the Imperius curse. One such individual was Lucius Malfoy, who actually turned himself in shortly after the Dark Lord's demise. He was quickly pardoned, though no one was sure if it was because he was innocent or because he'd paid off the Wizengamot.

Some claimed to have been spying for the resistance, a group led by Albus Dumbledore named the Order of the Phoenix. One notable wizard in this category was Hogwarts' very own Severus Snape. Professor Dumbledore himself testified on his former student's behalf, insisting that he had done everything on his orders, and that his gathered intelligence had contributed to Voldemort's downfall. People weren't sure what to believe, but as Dumbledore was a powerful and influential wizard— not to mention Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot— his word was accepted, and Severus Snape pardoned of all crimes committed during the war.

It was a subdued Professor Snape who returned to Hogwarts after his trial. His first act upon entering the castle was to shake Valerius Aldbar's hand. The former Auror nodded in quiet approval, and the two could be seen conversing together in easy camaraderie after that. He seemed different to the students in some undefinable way. He was more pensive, prone to staring into space, but as he still noticed everything around him his stillness could not be taken advantage of, and his classes proceeded much the same way they always had. More gossip followed him down the halls, to be certain - speculation on his acts as a spy, on how he'd tricked the Dark Lord, if he'd helped Harry Potter defeat him, anything and everything was fair game. Ferdinand Meriwether claimed to have seen Madam Pince hugging Snape one day, but no one believed him. They'd all heard her screaming at him for writing in a book once, and Madam Pince never forgot such desecration.

The children and relatives of the Death Eaters changed as well. With every new name listed in the _Prophet_ they shrank further into themselves, where before they had gloried in every mention. They had lost, and they had been so arrogant that everyone rubbed it in their faces. Sarah was forced to admit that she had done the same, taunting Wilkes in the library about his side having lost. Madam Pince had scolded her severely and Avery had glared at her so fiercely she'd flinched and hardly said anything for the rest of the afternoon.

It turned out Vipera Crouch was Bartemius' niece, and she received such close scrutiny that she retreated into herself. It was only then that Sarah noticed what an outgoing and kind girl she had been before.

Percival Selwyn's father was a Death Eater, but he pleaded that he had been Imperiused and hadn't meant to hurt anyone. As there was no evidence except for emphatic finger-pointing, he was let go. Percival Selwyn was a little quieter after that, but his temper was shorter than ever.

Janus Avery had been one of the Slytherins hit the hardest by the wizarding world's rabid extermination of anything left of the Dark Lord. Both his father and his older brother had been named Death Eaters by one of their fellows at his trial. Unlike Bellatrix Lestrange, who had gone down screaming and fighting every step of the way to Azkaban, or Evan Rosier and Wilkes, who had been killed by Aurors the year before, the Averys had gone on the run. The Gryffindors hated them for being Death Eaters, and the Slytherins detested them for being cowards. In their absence, Janus Avery received all the ill will they couldn't give to their true recipients.

Patrick Fawley stayed with his friend, guarding his back to the best of his ability. Sarah brought up all the times he had helped them against his own Housemates. Owain Caran pointed out that his help had to have been genuine, because all the Slytherins had thought they were going to win. There were always going to be close-minded people who couldn't see past his last name - Christopher Lowell, for one - but for the most part Avery gradually gained a tentative respect.

This was helped along greatly by Professor Snape, who commented during a lesson once that Avery Sr had always complained about his younger son not following in his footsteps. "Although it must be said that such fierce opposition from his own family did not keep Mr Avery from getting some of the highest marks in this class." His words seemed to remind Slytherin House that they were still fighting for the House Cup, and fighting amongst themselves would not gain them the coveted award. Almost between one day and the next, the entire House stood together on everything. Cunning ambition, apparently, meant doing whatever necessary to come out on top.

It was almost funny in Defense Against the Dark Arts, because most of Aldbar's lessons had them working together, which meant Sarah and Avery shared many of their high scores. Their rivalry was lighthearted but earnest, and Sarah enjoyed it very much. One day she stayed behind after class to thank Professor Aldbar for pairing them together.

"What makes you think I did it for you?" Aldbar grunted. "Avery needed someone who didn't blindly hate him, at least."

Sarah smiled at the typical Slytherin answer, looking past her professor to the newspaper-covered wall behind his desk. Several pages of the Daily Prophet had been stuck to the wall, presumably with a Temporary Sticking Charm, depicting different events which had taken place during the war, some from even a couple years before. Several headlines announced Death Eater attacks, with titles like **DEATH EATERS ATTACK BRIDGE, MUGGLE FACTORY DESTROYED, YOU-KNOW-WHO'S MARK SPOTTED OVER EXPLODED THEATER; DEATH EATER INVOLVEMENT SUSPECTED!**

Wait.

Sarah leaned closer. Something about that headline seemed familiar, though she couldn't think what…

"You'd best be off, Miss Williams," Professor Aldbar said, smiling kindly at her. "You'll be spending the Christmas holidays with your family soon enough."

That was right; Christmas break began in two days. Sarah beamed at him and skipped off.

She didn't notice Aldbar sink back into his chair, twisting around to study the newspaper wall. "An awful lot of failures for an Auror," he mumbled.

"Someone told me you shouldn't take responsibility for _everything_ that goes wrong around you," a wry voice commented from the doorway.

Aldbar grunted, swinging back around to fix his piercing grey eyes on Severus Snape. "Aye, and I told you that you _should_ take responsibility for what you _did_."

Snape raised one eyebrow. "Take responsibility for being the best Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this school has had for quite some time, then." He bowed and continued on his way.

Aldbar watched him go. "I had to," he said softly. He closed his eyes, reliving the moment which had plagued him until he owled Dumbledore with a request for the Defense position.

* * *

Sarah enjoyed the ride from Hogsmeade to Kings Cross Station, incredibly excited to see her father. She had so much to tell him, so much she had learned and experienced in the three and a half months since she had seen him last. She'd sent him letters, of course, but she wanted to see him face to face. It had been strange, to go so long without him, when he had been part of her life every day for as long as she could remember. _Definitely since Mum…died…_ That was the first time she'd let herself think of it, she realized. She must be getting more mature, she thought, and wriggled happily in her seat at this thought.

Once the Hogwarts Express pulled into King's Cross Station, Sarah nearly flew out of her seat, bowling over a prefect on the way. "Sorry!" she called back. "Merry Christmas!" Then she hurled herself out of the coach and ran to meet her father.

He broke into a big smile as he saw her and threw his arms out to welcome her. She tucked herself into his warm embrace and inhaled his special fragrance, a mix of cologne and a faint note of burned food. She smiled into his coat and beamed up at him. "I'm so glad to see you!"

Robert grinned back at her. "Me too, Princess."

Sarah remembered her dream, where the woman had called her princess, and smiled.

After fetching her trunk, they walked arm-in-arm through the secret passage into Platform 9 3/4 to the Muggle version of King's Cross Station. Sarah itched to tell her father all about Hogwarts, but she couldn't, not with Muggles around. Now that was an odd thought. It made her smile, though, and she kept grinning all the way back home.

The Christmas holidays passed quickly— too quickly, it seemed for Sarah. Almost before she knew it, Christmas had come and gone. She'd received owls from several of her friends, and an odd animal figurine that had not come with a tag identifying the sender. It looked exotic and exciting, something like a cross between a soft downy Yeti and an upright bull, but with a friendly, toothy smile that made Sarah think of a name that sounded like Ludlow, though she wasn't sure why. New Year's Eve passed and Sarah once again prepared to leave for Hogwarts.

Robert had been overjoyed to learn of the Dark Lord's defeat, and had taken to calling an unexpected, pleasant surprise 'something of a Harry Potter'. He was a bit more reluctant to send his daughter to the distant castle in Scotland, but her shining eyes as she told him of her new friends and the magic she was learning convinced him it was the best choice, after all. Being a father was hard. He missed Linda.

He didn't tell Sarah much of this, just smiled and waved her goodbye as the Hogwarts Express took her back to Hogwarts. Then he trudged back home, debating with himself whether or not to call Irene once he had reached 8 Orchard Lane.

* * *

 _A/N: Welp there you have it. I wonder if I was too heavy-handed with the foreshadowing in the Godric's Hollow bit? I wanted to show that there was someone behind the scenes, and I'm not sure how much I gave away. And the Horcrux! There was a post on tumblr about how you actually make one. JKR had told someone the process and it apparently literally made them nauseous. Combined with the fact that Riddle's body disappeared that day, one can postulate that in order to create a Horcrux you have to consume part of your victim. Being the egotistical sexist dimbutt that he is, Voldemort had already started whatever process you begin to make a Horcrux out of Harry. With the victim actually being himself due to the rebounded Killing Curse and my own little twist on it - the typical Labyrinth fanon of what's said is said, and words having a power of their own - I'm saying that Voldemort's spells finished their effects on their own, because they'd already been cast. Thus, he died, his body was consumed (by himself), and as technically the one who had 'killed' Voldemort, Harry was considered by Voldemort's magic to be the one who had created the Horcrux. Through more vague headcanon magic, the fragment of Riddle's soul that he'd already started splitting off affixed itself to the most powerful thing in the room, which was a child loved by his mother.  
_

 _Did that make sense to anyone?_

 _Anyway. We see Jareth from a distance! We get to meet the Labyrinth! However, this means the person blithely skipping around Sarah's dreams before_ wasn't _the Labyrinth, but instead someone else. I like her. And why she's- well. Spoilers. I'm excited but probably we won't find out who she is until after Sarah's run the Labyrinth when she's 15. Aaaand now that I look at the last chapter again her age is all wrong. Ah well. She's Underground. Time runs differently? *magic hands*_

 _Poor Avery. Children can be so cruel._

 _*squeaky impression of David Bowie* (Just as I can be so cruel)_

 _Gosh being a writer is a basket full of sadistic fun._

 _(May 6th, 2017)_


	10. Life At Hogwarts

Sarah waved goodbye to her father and boarded the coach after Caroline. She had (nearly literally) run into the other girl at Platform 9 3/4 and they had instantly decided to sit next to each other as they had on the way to King's Cross. Caroline chattered away happily as they claimed a compartment near the door. "Sorry if my mother seemed a little off; I think she's a bit overwhelmed with the baby at home. He's a real handful; Mum's letters are stuffed with stories of what the little rascal's gotten up to. Oh, but he's so cute! He scrunches up his nose when Jane hit Joel — those are my older sister and brother, they're twins — when Jane hit Joel with a Tickling Hex. The baby laughs more than he does, sometimes!"

Sarah listened with interest to the story of a home very unlike her own. It sounded chaotic and unruly, and she shuddered at the thought of changing nappies. _I'm glad I'm an only child._

"It was nice to have the whole family together over Christmas," Caroline sighed contentedly. "What about you? How was your Christmas?"

"Oh…quiet. It's just my dad and me, and my Aunt Kaylin lives out of town. They don't like coming to Cokeworth anymore; it's so quiet since the mill fire."

"Mill fire?" Caroline repeated, eyes wide. "What happened?"

Sarah wriggled on her seat. "Nobody knows! One day out of the blue it caught fire, the whole thing went up in flames. Some people even died inside. The mill went out of business after that, but I guess a lot of people had complained about the fire danger and the company hadn't done anything about it, so a lot of people were upset. My dad's a lawyer, and he was hired by the mill's owners, which is why we moved there. Before that we lived in London, and my mum was an actress. She still was, when she—" Sarah broke off suddenly and stared at the floor.

Caroline hummed in sympathy, leaning her head on her friend's shoulder. "I'm sorry," she said quietly.

Sarah breathed deeply. "Thanks. I'm—"

The door slid open and Andrea smiled widely. "Sarah!" Andrea jumped onto the bench beside Sarah. "Happy New Year! Oh, Happy New Year to you too, Caroline!"

Sarah laughed, the somber mood from just a moment before vanished like smoke. "You wished me a Happy New Year before we left, and it's the 3rd already."

"Oh, I know, but I'm so looking forward to getting back to school and seeing everyone. It feels completely different than September, when everyone was scared half to death of You-Know-Who and the prefects wouldn't let us go anywhere alone."

"They still won't," Caroline pointed out. "Not everyone is happy with how the war ended. I wish they would be."

Andrea giggled. "You're such a Hufflepuff. And besides, Dad said all the Slytherins are pretending the war never really happened, so all the Death Eaters' kids are being nice to us now. Well. Sort of nice."

With all the trained instinct of a student in Valerius Aldbar's class, Sarah noticed how Andrea had implied that Slytherins and Death Eaters were the same. She swung her feet back and forth, unsure of what to say.

Caroline sighed. "I still don't see why everyone thinks all Death Eaters were Slytherins. I mean, Hufflepuff's never turned out a Dark Wizard, but the other three Houses have their fair share. And some Slytherins are really nice, like Aelfric Basilthorne. Diana Lynxden says he's been a good classmate ever since he was Sorted. And Professor Snape was a hero."

Sarah nodded. "Basilthorne was pretty good about keeping Olthom's gang from starting anything without it coming to blows — err, wands."

Andrea was frowning. "Wait, Hufflepuff's never had a Dark Wizard? Not one?"

Caroline sat straighter. "Nope. None," she said proudly.

"But surely — what about Newt Scamander? He was expelled!"

"So was Hagrid, and you know what he's like. Besides, I heard Newt Scamander and his friends practically stopped Grindelwald from getting any followers in the States back in 1926."

Andrea and Sarah looked at each other. "Really?" They leaned towards their friend. "Tell us about it!"

* * *

Sarah would never admit to being disappointed that they wouldn't get to sail over the Black Lake from Hogsmeade like they had at the Welcoming Feast. Instead, she climbed into one of the horseless carriages — or the carriages being pulled by invisible horses, she wasn't sure which — and settled next to Ivy for the ride up to the castle. The girls exchanged gossip and stories of Christmas joys and mishaps — Ivy's mum had set the goose on fire and in a panic, forgetting all about her wand, threw it into the icebox where it smashed a cooling pudding; Sarah's dad had once again burned the peas.

Ivy seemed a little quieter than she had been before the holidays, and she tensed when the carriage stopped by the doors. "I hope this semester is better than the last one," she muttered.

"Oh, I'm sure it will be," Sarah said confidently.

And in a way, it was. As before, Slytherin House not only stopped their previous malice but also didn't even take part in the normal bullying of younger years like the other three Houses. If Sarah had started school on the 4th of January instead of the 2nd of September she would have thought Slytherins model students. In fact, everyone returning from the Christmas stopped in the Entrance Hall and stared in astonishment at all the emeralds in one of the hourglasses.

 _"Slytherin's WINNING?"_ Andrea shrieked. She raised her chin. "Come on ladies. We've got to step up our game."

Caroline smiled, her eyes sparkling in amusement. "Yes, you should. Hufflefpuff's in second place." She spun around and sauntered down the corridor on her way to her common room.

Good-natured rivalry echoed in the corridors and up the Great Staircase, and Sarah settled into her bed that night eagerly awaiting the coming months.

* * *

Over the Christmas holidays, Professor Aldbar had covered one of the walls in newspaper clippings. At first, Sarah had dismissed this as a particular quirk of his. Then one class they began implementing all the spells they had learned into dueling practice. Avery didn't dodge Sorbius' _Tarantallegra,_ which distracted Sarah. Selwyn's _Impedimenta_ knocked her back with enough force to send her flying four feet. She came to a stop on her back less than a foot from the wall. Dazed, she got to her hands and knees, raised her head, and her eyes met a thick black headline: **YOU-KNOW-WHO SEEN!** Sarah's eyes drifted from one clipping to the next.

 **DARK MARK OVER MUGGLE HOME!**

 **DEATH EATER KILLED BY AURORS!**

 **SEVERUS SNAPE SPY FOR DUMBLEDORE?**

 **AURORS CAPTURE TWO DEATH EATERS!**

Each clipping— every single one— was about Voldemort or his Death Eaters. Sarah didn't see one about Sirius Black though he was involved. She stood, eyes still on the wall of newspaper clippings. Some were very old, with articles about a promising young wizard named Tom Riddle. One praised his cunning bravery in saving the school. One was a small paragraph listing his NEWTS, like what you would find in a very long article of all the students, though it had been cut out to show just his. Other clippings were more recent— like the one from last week trying to make something of Snape's refusal to answer any of the _Daily Prophet'_ s questions.

"A wall of history."

Sarah jumped, not having expected Professor Aldbar's voice so close to her. "What history?" she asked.

"Not what, _who_."

"You-Know-Who?" Sarah managed to keep from jumping at Selwyn's voice, but he smirked and she knew he'd seen her tensing.

Professor Aldbar suddenly looked quite as old and wise as Dumbledore. "Tom Riddle. His rise to power, his taking the name Lord Voldemort" —there were gasps at this, which he ignored— "his gathering of followers, his vicious, stupid war, his fall, the fate of his Death Eaters, and the desperation of his remaining followers." Aldbar scanned the wall with the same sense of pride a sculptor might have after fashioning a grave marker— he had done good work, but for a sad reason. He turned on his heel and focused his glare on his students.

"I don't ever want you to forget. Prejudice killed so many, nearly tore our world apart, and I don't want you to ever dare forget your own history. Not this. Not this war."

Professor Aldbar's steely grey eyes glinted. "You remember, and you keep it from happening again."

That sentence sank into Sarah's mind and stayed with her for many days. Years later, older and fighting her own battles, she would remember, and be grateful to the teacher who showed her how to avoid a war.

Today, however, she simply turned to gather her books with the rest of them. She did not notice Aldbar's gaze slipping to one of the articles on the wall and she did not hear his guilty sigh.

* * *

Before Sarah could even recognize the gently waving grasses of the familiar red hill, the young woman spun into view, laughing. "It's a prince's birthday!" she said excitedly. Her black tattered skirts flared out and Sarah realized they had been embroidered in such a way as to resemble a dancing thorny vine as she spun. She laughed aloud again and held her hands out. "Come on, princess! We need to celebrate!"

Sarah blinked at her hands for a moment. "I can move?" she asked dumbly. Then she winced. Of course she could move. It was just that the dreams had all unfolded in such a way that she didn't notice that she had remained seated for each one.

"Most things but the stars," the young woman agreed, eyes glittering. She flicked her fingers. "Come on!"

Sarah gave a mental shrug and grabbed the other woman's hands. She pulled Sarah to her feet and twirled them around. Sarah tried to follow the steps as best she could.

"Oh no, no, no, princess, it's not that kind of dance at all. Underground dances are more about feeling the earth, or one of your own emotions, or sharing them with another." She spun in place and clapped her hands to no particular rhythm.

For a moment, Sarah thought the moves were following a pattern but then she blinked and the thought was gone.

"Don't listen with your ears, sweetie," the young woman advised. "You're a witch, after all." She smiled as though she had told a joke.

Sarah concentrated, trying to…to…focus, the way she could sometimes on the moving staircases…

"You're thinking too hard. Think of it like a birthday celebration." The woman pulled back and stood with her hands on her hips. "Someone I know—" She lifted her left foot, which was encased in a small black heeled boot this time, and planted it firmly on the ground. "—has had another year of life." She swung her left foot around in a gentle circle. "And that year affected others around him." She shifted her weight to her other foot, and spun, swinging her right foot like she had her left. "There is a _rhythm_ to it, see?" She spun and twisted, gave a little hop and twirled again.

Sarah found herself swaying a little and she looked up at her companion, who grinned. "Now forget everything you ever learned about propriety and just jump in! _Feel_ it!"

Sarah watched her dance and once again began to see a little pattern. She spun around, her skirt twirling around her ankles — and when had she switched to the white tulle dress she'd left at Orchard Lane? — and a smile grew wide on her face. She followed the young woman as she ducked and clapped her hands. Sarah added in a little kick at the end of a twist and the woman laughed loudly.

"Yes, just like that! You see, you don't even know who I'm talking about, but I do, and I'm sharing what I know with you. Are you paying attention?"

"Yes—wait, what's your name?"

The woman spun, and she looked both younger and older than she had before, and her laugh echoed in the wind.

"QUIDDITCH IS TODAY!"

Sarah jerked awake, wide eyes landing on an enthusiastic Drusilla Barrett. She was decked out in Gryffindor red and was wrapping a gold scarf around her neck. Drusilla did a little half-skip dancing wiggle. "Come on, we've got to go!"

* * *

Sarah hadn't paid much attention to Quidditch last semester, but now it was all anyone could talk about. She still didn't know what a Porskoff Ploy was — she'd confused the name with Wronski Feint and called it a Pronsky Ploy, much to Andrea's horror. Her friend had instantly recommended she check out the book _Quidditch Through the Ages_ by Kennilworthy Whisp. This proved a difficult task, as it was apparently the most popular book in Hogwarts.

As they were heading into DADA one morning, she asked Drusilla if she knew of another copy. "I have one," Avery interjected.

Sarah brightened. "Can I borrow it?"

Avery grinned. "Do you have any owl feathers?"

"What?" Sarah furrowed her brow. Avery continued grinning, looking as though this was a perfectly reasonable request. Sarah huffed. "Why would I need owl feathers?"

"You don't." Avery took his seat and drummed his fingers on his textbook. "But I could use some for…a project I'm working on."

"He means he's too lazy to get them himself," Selwyn said in a bored voice.

Avery shrugged, smiling a bit. Sarah would never understand his relationship with Selwyn. Sometimes it seemed like they were constantly at each other's throats, and sometimes they seemed closer than brothers. "Slytherin politics, my dear seatmate. You want my book, and I want owl feathers without spending any effort on getting them."

Sarah narrowed her eyes at him. "You look like Fawley right before he tries to prank Peeves," she muttered, and was not reassured at all by Avery's widening grin. But now she was curious. "Okay," she said at last. "How many do you need?"

"Oh Merlin's saggy arse," Selwyn muttered. "Why don't you roll over and play dead, too?"

"Come on, Selwyn," Halvard Sorbius said reprovingly. "Aren't you curious what Avery's planning?"

"No," Selwyn snapped, "and I don't need some Mud-ggleborn trying to figure it out either."

Sarah's face fell. She couldn't understand why he still acted that way. Some of the students still behaved as they had before the war's end, and she had come to the unwelcome realization one day while writing a letter home that some wizards would always be racists, and some would always be bullies. (Gryffinder was most often found in the latter category, to her extreme annoyance.)

Professor Aldbar began the class and she turned her thoughts to the lesson. You always had to pay close attention in this class.

* * *

Life fell into a pattern. Meals, classes, Quidditch, games in the common room, all were interspersed with headlines from the _Prophet_ and the fallout, a student in detention for something and the gossip about it, a trick from Peeves and a traumatized Hufflepuff.

She never did find out what Avery had wanted with the owl feathers.

It wasn't so bad, this life. Sarah grew into herself with each day. She, Ivy, and Andrea became close friends, dragging Caroline with them whenever she was free, and attack-hugging Aurelia Ingram whenever they saw her in the corridors. Their study periods in the evenings became one of the highlights of her day. (Although she could do without Fawley and Caran constantly pranking each other and calling a red-faced Madam Pince down on them like a vengeful Fury)

Valentine's Day rolled around and Sarah was delighted by the Wizarding take on one of her favorite holidays. She loved the animated envelopes flying overhead, the floating hearts around the Great Hall, the singing cupids — even Peeves' rhymes, some of which made the older students laugh and the teachers very cross.

Hogwarts was quite chaotic. Umbridge got detention for two months, but no one — not even Patrick Fawley — could figure out why.

(Sarah's personal favorite part of the holiday had to be Gilderoy Lockhart's bright pink robes with Cupids charmed to fly around the hems, much to the embarrassed despair of Aurelia Ingram.)

Gryffindor pulled ahead of Hufflepuff in the race for the House Cup, though they were still behind Slytherin. No matter what they did — and the older students would bring back treats from Hogsmeade for McGonagall every single weekend — the snakes always ended the day with the most points.

Once, Ivy commented that Slytherin always had more points at the end of every Potions lesson. Professor Snape had cocked his head. "Perhaps my House simply makes better potions, Miss Nelson." After class had ended, everyone was buzzing with speculation on whether or not Snape was throwing the points in favor of his House. They'd always thought he was fair, like Aldbar…

 _Was Aldbar unfair too?_

A suspicious class noticed the points in DADA more or less equal, as they always had been, and that was the end of that.

Although most of her Hogwarts experience was very positive, one thing that grew worse every day was Percival Selwyn. He was almost permanently angry now, lashing out at the slightest provocation. He and Wilkes could often be seen together, and he soon knew more Dark hexes than any first year. He would try to get Avery to join him but he refused every time. Once he snapped, "We are not our fathers!" and Selwyn had drawn back. "No," he sneered. "Jupiter Avery would never have befriended someone like Williams." He'd shoved Sarah on his way past and was increasingly antagonistic to her after that.

* * *

Sarah had dreamed of the red hill and the nearby maze a couple times now.

Today when she blinked and found herself on the red hill, Sarah lit up. She'd grown to like her dreams of the two women, and to see both at once made her very happy.

Now that she saw them together, she realized how young the first woman really was. Or was it that the queen was really very old?

That struck her as different, and she blurted, "You're not really a queen, are you." Her eyes widened and she slapped a hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to say that!

Thankfully, instead of looking angry or insulted the woman laughed, the sound clear and bright. "I'm whatever you wish me to be, my precious princess." The woman tossed her hair and the wavy tresses suddenly looked more brown than the red they had been before.

Sarah looked at the first woman curiously. "What does that make you?" She squinted. "And how old are you?"

"Old enough," she said.

"No you are not," the woman — queen — said calmly.

"No, I was talking to — to — oh, what is your name?" Sarah huffed in frustration.

The young woman swung her hips, making her black dress flare out. "Oh, you'll find out soon enough. Today, you can call me Rose."

Sarah nodded. "And you?" she asked the ageless woman beside them.

The woman simply smiled. "No words could contain my name, dear one. However, you were more right with queen than you know. Yes," she said decisively, "I should like to be called Queen."

Rose made a sort of strangled choking noise that Sarah thought was to hide a laugh. "The Oracles would like that." Her grin seemed familiar for a moment but Sarah could not place it.

Queen raised an eyebrow and the wind danced around her ankles, winding the tall red grasses up around her calves. Between one heartbeat and the next, she stepped forward wearing shoes that looked like woven gold. "They do not understand me. They are so…human sometimes."

"Human?" Rose repeated incredulously. "My Lady, the Old Ones are the furthest thing from Abovegrounders that can be!"

"On the contrary, they are very similar in fundamentals."

"But they're so… _old_! They aren't like even the youngest Fae!"

"And do you rely so heavily on appearances?"

Sarah looked back and forth between them. They seemed to have known each other forever, yet also seemed to have just met. "Rose," she wondered suddenly, "do you know who the owl is?"

Rose smirked at her. Her eyes glittered black. "Yes. And no. He doesn't like me all that much."

Queen swayed as though dancing to an unheard melody. "You should have traveled with him, my tenacious flower. You could have learned much."

"I wanted to see you with the princess!" Rose protested. Her face flickered and she looked much younger. "I learn so much by watching you."

 _The princess? Is that-_ "Me?" Sarah gasped.

"You?" Rose returned without hesitation, face flickering once more and she looked older. She sounded challenging.

Sarah stood taller, noticing for the first time that she was wearing the Sleeping Beauty dress she'd gotten for her birthday. "Yes, me," she said. "I'm the princess." She raised her chin, simultaneously knowing her answer to be true and _willing_ it to be so.

Queen smiled at her. "As you say."

Sarah opened her eyes on red curtains. She burrowed deeper into the covers, smiling. She liked these dreams.

* * *

As March drew to a close, Sarah was struck by Professor Aldbar's treatment of her. She hadn't noticed before, but he behaved differently around her than anyone else. It took her until the first week of April to name it.

Wariness.

He was tense around her, like he was waiting for her to…do… _something_. She couldn't imagine what. _A mystery!_ her sense of curiosity crowed. She determined to figure it out.

One day, shortly before the Easter hols, she did.

Sarah felt a rush of the familiar— Selwyn's lips pulled back in rage as he faced her after she had unwisely taunted him about having been Knocked back by a Muggle-born, his wand flicking upward, too quickly for her to dodge this time, the flash of red light, the feel of flying through the air, the solid thud of her back against the baseboard. All these were familiar, seeming to happen every class.

Less familiar was the crinkle of newspaper.

 _Oh, I must have hit the Wall,_ Sarah thought dazedly, still staring up at the ceiling, trying to get her breath back. One of the clippings had come loose and was drifting towards her. Her eyes widened as she caught the picture, a very familiar picture, one she had stared at far too often. She grabbed it out of the air and stared at the image.

A burning theater, half the side blown open.

Sarah had touched a picture of this, traced the flames licking the windows, tried to peer into the debris littering the ground and see if she could see one of the actors' shoes.

She had never seen a picture of the Cokeworth Theatre Explosion with a Dark Mark floating in the sky above it, and she had never seen the picture followed by this particular headline.

 **AUROR FAILS SECRET OPERATION, DEATH EATER ATTACK KILLS FIVE MUGGLES!**

Sarah couldn't breathe.

* * *

 _A/N: A'ight. May 26th, and the plot thickens! How am I doing with rising tension? I have two more chapters and a short epilogue, does the story seem like it's bearing down on the finale? I've tried to add enough subplots for the last chapter to make sense, not come out of nowhere, but I wonder if it seemed too much like...like just added details, not a building of momentum leading to the conclusion. Thoughts?_

 _(That or I've been reading too much Queen's Thief and I want a twist ending with a secure foundation. It's probably that. You write what you read, after all.)_

 _Also. This cliffhanger. Yes?_  
 _And thank you all so much for sticking with this through the lengthy pause between updates; I'm not quitting!_


	11. Closer Than Expected

Sarah couldn't breathe.

She didn't hear Professor Aldbar give Selwyn his point for a well-cast _Impedimenta_ and take five points for failing to use the Disarming Charm as instructed. She didn't hear Selwyn's exaggerated sigh. She didn't hear the class begin to murmur about why she was still sitting on the floor. She didn't hear any of it.

Instead she heard her father's voice, two years ago and shaking in a way she'd never heard before.

 _"There was an accident at the theater. A gas line exploded while Mum was performing the Scottish play."_

 _"Is she all right?"_

 _"…She's in a better place now."_

 _"What does that mean?"_

 _"She's…the explosion…she's gone."_

 _"At the hospital?"_

 _"No. Oh, Sarah, I'm so sorry. Mum isn't going to be coming home. She's…she passed away."_

And Sarah had, even at 9 years of age, known what that meant. _"She's dead?"_

 **DEATH EATER ATTACK KILLS FIVE MUGGLES!**

 _"Yes, princess. It's just you and me now."_

The headline swam in Sarah's eyes. **DEATH EATER KILLS MUGGLES!** She let out a breath she hadn't been aware of holding and lowered the paper. Fearful green eyes met steely grey and she _knew._

"Class dismissed," Aldbar said tersely. There was a quiet murmur as to why they were being let go half an hour early, but of course the students didn't question it too loudly, eager to be off.

Sarah didn't move.

The familiar after-lesson sounds — her classmates gathering books and parchments, adjusting robes, talking with each other, and walking about — all drifted over her. She let her head rest against the wall, flinching at the sound of wrinkling newspaper.

"Sarah?" Andrea called. "Come on!"

Sarah shook her head numbly. Professor Aldbar inclined his head. "It's all right, Miss Goldstone. I'll see to her."

Andrea frowned but left with an equally reluctant Avery.

Professor Aldbar sighed heavily. "You're a clever girl, Williams. I suspect you know what happened."

"There was a gas leak," Sarah said without thinking.

"No, lass. There wasn't." Aldbar leaned down and tapped the picture with one long finger. "This was the result of a _Reducto_ cast in the boiler room, the last of many spells cast that night."

"It was…it was a Death Eater attack? That killed my mum?"

Aldbar searched her eyes, though she didn't know what he was looking for. "Yes," he said at last. "They knew it was a place where Muggles congregated, and they were trying to create fear and panic. They used the excuse of it being the Scottish play — wizards don't much care for the Bard's treatment of them in his plays." Aldbar sat back against his desk, sighing once more. "Doesn't excuse it, of course. But that's where they were going, and we knew that's where they'd be."

"Because of Professor Snape?"

Aldbar's lips twitched but it didn't look like a smile. "Not quite. We — my Aurors and I — had readied ourselves to wait, and wait we did. The curtains ran up and we knew they would appear during the second act. Leastways, we thought we knew. One of the younger Death Eaters grew impatient and cast the Dark Mark overhead. My spell-happy Aurors —" Aldbar waved a hand and made a scoffing noise of disgust. "No better than the blackguards they were fighting. One of 'em shot off into the wings where we knew the Death Eaters waited, they retaliated, and it became a massive duel all over the theater. We put up wards to keep the Muggles safe and I—"

Aldbar swallowed, and lowered his eyes.

"I watched one of them chase Danvers — good boy, passed his NEWTS with flying colors — into the basement. I followed, but saw another Death Eater cast a curse into the stands. I turned to block it — I remember thinking my spell was going to get there too late — and it was like a huge hand pushed me from behind. I fell, damn near broke my wand, and I heard screaming. It had spooked the Death Eaters, I think, and my Aurors and I were able to apprehend the ones who hadn't fled. We never did find out who cast that _Reducto_ , the Death Eater or Danvers. They both got caught in the blast, which took off half the side of the building. It got two of the cast members, who'd been hiding backstage, and three of the stage hands."

"Leopold Shuffield," Sarah murmured quietly. "He was playing Macbeth. Mum was playing Lady Macbeth. It was the middle of their reunion scene, at the beginning. I don't remember the ninjas' names."

"Ninjas?" Aldbar repeated, drawing Sarah out of her thoughts.

"It's what Mum called the stage hands. They wore all black and disappeared…like ninjas…"

Aldbar gave her a small smile. "I like that."

Sarah sniffed. "They liked it too. Everyone loved Mum." A wet spot appeared on the picture. "I loved Mum." The past tense didn't escape her and two more wet spots appeared — dripped — _I'm crying._ She sniffed again and tried to blink the tears back.

"I'm so sorry, Sarah Williams," Aldbar said softly. "Truly I am. I never meant to hurt — I tried —"

"It's not your fault, Professor." Sarah wiped her cheeks. "You did the best you could." She looked up at him and inched closer.

He hesitated, then opened up his arms. Sarah threw herself forward. When he tightened his hold on her, she lost all her hard-won composure and burst into wet, heaving sobs that lasted for a long time.

Valerius Aldbar didn't let go of her.

* * *

Sarah felt warm and secure and safe, and she never wanted to leave. "You're going to be late for Herbology, Miss Williams," Aldbar said gently.

Sarah gasped, drawing back. "Oh, is it that time already?" She looked around wildly for her book bag. "Oh no."

"It's all right; Pomona will understand."

"Pomona?" Sarah asked in confusion as she got to her feet.

Aldbar chuckled. "Professor Pomona Sprout."

"Oh. I forgot you have first names." Sarah straightened her robes. "Thank you, Professor," she said. The words felt inadequate. _Oh, I wish I knew what to say! I always forget the right words._ "It means a lot, that…that you…" She huffed and looked down, her eyes catching the headline once more. She frowned. "Why does it say you failed? You caught them, didn't you?"

Aldbar blinked and his lips parted. "Why…why, lass, the ones I couldn't save…"

"But you kept them from hurting anyone else," Sarah said, nodding decisively. "You're a hero." She hugged him, though this time he was oddly still. Sarah let go and gave him a shy smile. She felt a lot better, as though a weight she hadn't known about had lifted. "Thank you." Aldbar smiled at her, his eyes shining a little, and she beamed. She'd made him feel better; she was giddy with victory. She practically skipped over to her desk to gather her books. "Bye, Professor! Have a good Easter!"

"You, uh," he coughed, "you too." He waved to her as she left.

Sarah made her way through the corridors and outside to the greenhouse, feeling worn out in a satisfied way. Apparently her Mum was right again, and having a good cry once in a while really could make you feel better. She couldn't wait to talk about this with Dad. He would love to know that it hadn't just been a mindless accident, but an important battle. That even more of their friends could have been lost if Professor Aldbar hadn't been there.

She made it to Greenhouse 4 just as the rest of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs made it. Andrea and Ivy instantly crowded around her. "Are you okay? What happened?"

"I'm okay," she reassured them.

"You look like you've been crying," Ivy said quietly.

Sarah wiped at her face. "Oh dear. Well, I suppose I was." She straightened, feeling like nothing so much as a brave princess facing tragedy with dignity. "But I must wait to tell you until after class."

Her two friends did not seem much assured by this, but they reluctantly took their seats when Professor Sprout reminded them. Sarah took her usual bench beside Caroline. "Are you all right?" Caroline asked at once.

Sarah nodded. She waited for Professor Sprout to finish telling them the assignments she expected them to complete over the Easter holiday. "I'll tell you after class," she whispered in a lull during the professor's speech.

Caroline nodded, but spent the whole lesson fidgeting and casting her concerned glances. The instant Professor Sprout dismissed them, she turned to Sarah. Andrea and Ivy appeared as if from thin air. Sarah started to tell them what had happened.

"Miss Williams, please take your discussion outside so the next class can come in," Professor Sprout said smilingly.

Sarah blushed, ducking her head. "Sorry, Professor Sprout. Have a lovely Easter!" She gathered her books and hefted her bag over her shoulder. "Happy Easter, Teresa," she called to Rosslyn. The shorter girl beamed and returned the greeting as they left the classroom. Sarah felt quite important with Andrea, Ivy, and Caroline following her. She led them to one of the quieter landings in the Great Staircase and sat down. She thought of her mother, the great actress Linda Williams.

 _"Chin up, back straight; let your enunciation come from your stomach, not your lungs. If you know you are the most important person speaking, your audience will believe you."_

"My mother was a Muggle," she began.

* * *

By the time Sarah had studied at the library for the afternoon, eaten dinner, gotten most of her homework started, played in the Common Room until curfew, and retired to her room, the story of how Linda Williams had bravely perished in a Death Eater attack had spread across the school. She awoke the next morning and set aside her school robes to put on her favorite yellow sundress, hardly expecting what would happen. She packed her trunk and left it locked at the foot of her bed, as she had for the Christmas holidays, trusting it would appear on the Hogwarts Express — like magic, she smiled to herself. Ivy and Drusilla were staying at Hogwarts over the Easter hols, so they had said their goodbyes the night before. She followed Andrea down the stairs into the Common Room, expecting the usual Saturday morning activity — older students chatting before their classes, younger students absent because they were still in bed, the Quidditch team already talking shop, Librenna telling everyone to be quiet while she read.

And for the most part, that is exactly what she found, with one glaring exception.

When she entered the room, all conversation halted and every eye turned toward her. She froze in the doorway.

"Williams!" Christopher Lowell cried. "Is it true you singlehandedly fought off a whole pack of Death Eaters when you were five?"

Sarah blinked.

In the next instant, everyone crowded around her, clamoring for the story.

Sarah was absolutely dumbfounded. She'd heard that the rumor mill of Hogwarts could exaggerate things a bit, but this was ridiculous. One seventh year boy — a _seventh year!_ — insisted that she'd told him that the theater had been destroyed when Sarah had summoned a dragon to avenge her mother's death.

"I'm — I'm going to be late —" Sarah stammered, trying to push through the pack. "And no, no that's not what happened…I wasn't even there!"

"I was right! You owe me a Galleon!"

Sarah didn't remember this happening the last time someone from Hogwarts lost a family member. What on earth was happening?

"Okay, that's enough," Gilbert Fortescue called out. "Let the girl get to the train."

The crowd parted enough for her to make her way to the Fat Lady's portrait, who swung closed right after her and Andrea. "My, you're quite the hero, aren't you?" the Fat Lady simpered. "It seems your House needed a story to make a big ruckus out of, and yours was dramatic enough to fit the bill."

Sarah cast a wide-eyed glance back at the door. "That isn't what I wanted," she said.

"It's what you've got," said the Fat Lady.

"Well," Andrea said brightly, "at least it should blow over quite quickly over the holidays." Her eyes lit up and she grinned. "Provided we catch the Express, of course."

Sarah laughed a little, relieved at the constancy of her friend. The two girls dashed down the stairways and into the Entrance Hall, where the other students had congregated. She saw Owain Caran brighten when he saw her and she ducked behind Andrea. "Not again!" she moaned.

Luckily, before there was a repeat of the incident in the common room, Hagrid opened one of the big double doors. "Students leaving for Hogsmeade, follow me!" he announced. The students quickly fell in line, streaming down the stairs and into the horseless carriages. Professor Snape was standing off to one side, watching them with a tilted head.

"He always looks like he's trying to figure out what the effect would be if he chopped us up and used us in one of his awful potions," Andrea muttered.

Sarah clapped a hand over her mouth to hide her laughter. "Serves us right for being dunderheads," she muttered back once she'd gotten herself under control.

"Morning, Severus," said a familiar voice.

Sarah suddenly realized the one thing she'd forgotten about this whole debacle. "Professor Aldbar," she gasped. Would he be angry about all the rumors? Upset that she'd spread the story? But she _hadn't!_

"Morning, lass," the professor nodded. "I hear you can breathe fire and your ancestor was the Bard himself."

 _He doesn't_ look _angry…_

"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to — oh, honestly, I don't know what happened. I only told Andrea! And Ivy - oh, and Caroline."

Snape and Aldbar chuckled.

She furrowed her brow. Had that been funny?

Aldbar shook his head. "It'll blow over soon enough. Besides, I'd already planned to take the holiday, so I won't even be present to hear how I fought off fifty Death Eaters with the help of twelve samurai warriors from Mahoutokoro."

Snape snorted. Aldbar frowned at him and he cleared his throat. "Miss Williams," said Snape, " rumors are a part of life. They spread as quickly as Devil's Snare and it's nearly useless to counteract them."

"The best way of dealing with them is to simply ignore them," Aldbar added.

That sounded familiar, and Sarah straightened her shoulders. "Oh, like an actress ignoring bad reviews in the _Times._ "

The two wizards looked at each other. Snape shrugged. Aldbar gave a small laugh. "Aye, your Mum would have known all about this."

Sarah tossed her hair. "Mum was the best," she declared, and strode forward to a waiting carriage.

Andrea giggled as they settled in. "You looked like a princess."

Sarah smiled.

* * *

Sarah disembarked from the train with Andrea, thanking her once again for sharing her Cauldron Cakes. "And I'll see you in a couple weeks!"

Andrea hugged her and scanned the platform for her parents. "I will, and you have a happy Easter." Mr and Mrs Goldstone waved and she began weaving her way through the crowd to them.

"Happy Easter!" Sarah called. She looked around for her own father. The crowd was certainly thinner than it had been for Christmas; most of the students had stayed at Hogwarts, and some of the older students had so much homework they wouldn't have left even if they'd had the option. She spotted a shorter man in a suit and began wheeling her way over. "Dad?"

He turned, and spotting her, lit up. "Sarah!" He swept her into his arms and spun her around. "How have you been, Princess?"

"Good," Sarah said without thinking, smiling brightly. Then out of the corner of her eye she saw Professor Aldbar standing by Professor Snape. They glanced at her before turning away and resuming their conversation as they walked away. Her smile dropped.

Robert set her down. "What is it?" he asked in concern.

"I—" An owl screeched in a nearby cage and she cast her gaze about Platform 9 3/4. Families milled about, pushing their trolleys through the barrier into King's Cross Station and chasing wayward children. "I'll tell you when we get home."

Her father nodded uncertainly. "All right. It wasn't those…what are they called, Purebloods? They haven't been bullying you?"

"Dad," Sarah said, rolling her eyes as she wheeled her trunk toward the barrier, "don't be prejudiced. Sure, some of them are bullies, but so is everyone sometimes."

She didn't know it, but her father smiled at her proudly.

King's Cross was much more chaotic than Platform 9 3/4 had been. Sarah was worried she'd get lost in all the bustle, so she held on to Robert's hand. This made pulling her trunk after her quite difficult and she almost tripped, but he held her upright. "Oh, I can take that," he said, reaching for her trunk.

"I've got it," Sarah said determinedly. She raised her chin. "Do we have a connection here?"

"Yes." Robert sounded like he was trying not to laugh. "It's just there."

They made it on to the train which would take them back to Cokeworth without much incident.

(Sarah would never admit that she'd made them take a little longer by doing everything herself, of course.)

Once they had settled into their compartment, Robert turned to Sarah. "So, what did you want to tell me?"

And once again, Sarah repeated the story. It was a little harder this time, as — of course — her father had known Linda, and it wasn't just a story but something that had actually happened to someone they both cared about very much. They both cried a little at the end, and afterward Sarah felt much closer to her father.

It was just the two of them now.

They took Robert's car from the little station in Cokeworth to their house, where Sarah unpacked. As she was putting away her dresses in the closet, she noticed the white tulle dress she had dreamed of last month. She smiled at it; it did look like a princess dress. She'd take it back to Hogwarts when she left after the holiday, she decided. She changed out of the sundress into something a little warmer for the evening and brushed her teeth. Then she skipped back downstairs to where her dad was waiting.

"How does The Skinny Mackerel sound?" he asked.

Sarah beamed at him. The old family pub was her favorite restaurant and they served the best potatoes in England, in her opinion.

(She might have been biased based on her dad's penchant for burning theirs)

"That sounds _wonderful!"_

They pulled out of Orchard Lane and Sarah chattered happily the entire way. The Skinny Mackerel was about as busy as it ever was — which was to say, hardly at all — and they found a table with ease. A couple times it seemed like Robert wanted to say something, but he never did, so Sarah assumed it wasn't important. She enjoyed her meal, though of course it couldn't compare to Hogwarts fare.

As she settled into her bed that night, she thought how brilliantly everything was going, and how happy she was. Oddly — though paradoxically, also not surprisingly — she wanted to share this emotion with Rose and Queen. They were only dreams, but she quite liked them. She closed her eyes and tried to will herself onto the hill with the soft red grasses, where the curled trees grew brown-red like their queen's hair, with the maze of stone visible in the distance and the hedge maze beyond that, with the stone spires of the castle rising into the sky. She envisioned the horizon, how past the castle she could see mountains far away, how when she looked to the right she had seen what looked like a tall forest made of black trees and mist, how to the left she saw an endless plain, how behind her-

What _did_ lay behind her? Had she ever looked?

She frowned and opened her eyes to think.

There was an owl sitting in the branches above her. He — and she recognized the owl she'd seen from a distance several dreams ago— had his head cocked and one eye fixed on her. She supposed she made quite the picture, laying on the ground. His white feathers shone in the moonlight and his eyes seemed to glitter blue.

"Hello," Sarah said, smiling. "You're quite handsome up close, aren't you?"

The owl preened at this and she laughed, sitting up. The wind was quiet today, and the sky a black velvet canvas for the stars scattered like diamonds across its expanse. Toward the right the moon hung round and brilliant. Sarah was barefoot, and the grass was cool on her feet as she stood. "Mountains, plains," she muttered, "and…" she turned around. The plains spread further this way, though they rose into hills which rolled far into the distance. "Hills. Of course," she smiled.

The owl hooted quietly, though rather demandingly, and Sarah looked up. "Am I ignoring you?" she wondered, giggling. "I was looking for—"

He fluttered his wings and jumped off the branch. As he swooped down he seemed to stretch and lengthen, and Sarah suddenly remembered the way the shadows had grown when she first met the young woman who later called herself Rose. The owl beat his wings and all in an instant a tall man stood before her.

Sarah didn't know why she was surprised, honestly.

She noticed he had mismatched pupils right away, as he was scrutinizing her carefully. His eyebrows made her think of…of…of something, she wasn't sure what.

"Tansy, what _are_ you doing?" he asked at last.

Sarah blinked. "I'm not Tansy," she said.

He waved a gloved hand. "Yes, I know, but I'd rather not use your true name, of course. Shouldn't you be studying with the Oracles?"

 _Rose mentioned the Oracles! And she said that I could call her Rose, but it wasn't really her name. She must be this Tansy._

"Oh, you think I'm— no, I'm S-" She hesitated. For some reason, she didn't want to use her name. "I'm the princess," she said.

He rolled his eyes. "And I'm the king, which means you mustn't defy me, little thorn."

 _Oh, king fits. I don't think anyone else could be this…proud._

Sarah decided to play along. "I wanted to see the way the land spread out from this hill."

The king narrowed his eyes. "Indeed?"

"Yes," Sarah nodded. "I'd never bothered paying attention to what was behind me."

"Now why does that sound like something our Stone Lady would come up with?" The former owl looked up at the sky, his gray cloak fluttering. "The Underground has been restless since Samhain, and you know I don't want you wandering about unguarded."

Sarah laughed and he snapped his gaze to her. "Oh, no one here can go unguarded with the Queen around," she explained. "For a king, you really are quite dense."

A curved eyebrow rose at this and he set his hands on his hips. "Well you _do_ know she refuses to manifest in the presence of an enemy, don't you Tansy?"

"I'm not Tansy," Sarah repeated.

The king drew back and surveyed her. "No? Then how did you come here?"

"I dreamed."

"Ah." He crossed his arms and smiled. "I haven't had one of you visit my realm for quite some time. What is your purpose?"

Sarah had no idea what he meant, and so shrugged.

The king bowed. "Well then, welcome to my kingdom."

Sarah curtsied. "Thank you, Your Majesty."

"And might I know your name?"

 _But he said it was dangerous to use your true name, didn't he?_ "No," she said, frowning.

This did not seem to bother him, as he only folded his arms once more. "Not that it matters; you'll soon be gone like smoke in the wind." He sighed, and sang quietly to himself, _"the lost and the lonely…"_

Sarah thought she would like to hear him sing for much longer. She hummed along and remembered her dance with Rose. "I can dance with you until I leave," she offered.

He looked at her and sighed, though the corner of his mouth lifted. "As you wish, little dreamling."

 _Odd name._

Sarah held a hand out graciously and he chuckled as he took it. "Princess indeed." And he stepped around her, singing softly a song of stars and night-time lullabies.

* * *

The Easter holiday passed quickly, and almost before she knew it, she was packing up to leave again. The day before she left, she went on a walk with her father in Cokeworth's small and only park. She'd liked to feed the ducks when she was little, but now that she was older she just enjoyed walking along the path. She imagined herself in a Regency dress, surrounded by beautiful attendants, and smiled.

A familiar voice interrupted her reverie. "Good day, Miss Williams."

"Good day, Professor," she replied automatically, then gasped and whirled around. "Professor Aldbar?" she cried.

Valerius Aldbar tipped his hat, eyes twinkling with mirth. "Hello, lass."

Robert extended a hand, which the professor shook. "Mr Aldbar, what brings you to Cokeworth?"

Aldbar shrugged. "It's as good a place to live as any. I _did_ have a life before I signed on to teach at Hogwarts, you know."

"You live here?" Sarah repeated. "How did I not know this?"

He shrugged again. "I keep to myself, though today I'm out with a rather eager potions student."

 _Potions student?_

Another voice called out,"Valerius, look at the honeycomb ferns; they're coming along beautifully!"

Sarah peered over the small pond and saw— "Professor Snape?"

Aldbar spread his hands and raised his eyebrows as though to say _'you see?'_ "Severus, you'll never guess who I've just met!"

"Likely Miss Williams, because they live here, which we know because you met them on your way to Hogwarts at start-of-term." Snape looked up from the plants he was examining and gave a little salute before bending down once again.

Robert laughed. "I like this Severus fellow."

"He was given a holiday and apparently finds the idea of tending to the plants here quite relaxing," Aldbar explained as he walked with them around the path towards Snape. "I'm not sure if he brought them here or not, but some magical herbs spring up in the most unlikely of places. I found a Devil's Snare in the walls of a public toilet once, and I've no idea how it got there."

"Honeycomb ferns," Sarah repeated to herself, trying to remember where she'd heard that one before. "Isn't that the one in the book with the little drawing of a pond?"

They had reached Snape by then, and he raised an eyebrow at this. "And do you by any chance remember anything _else_ about the honeycomb fern?"

Sarah furrowed her brow. "It…it's better used when it's fresh?" Snape gave absolutely nothing away. "No—oh, I remember! Cause the name was wrong; it isn't a fern at all and I don't know why they named it that in the first place. It's more like river reeds, but instead of being smooth the leaves have little bubbles that look kind of like honeycomb cells — hence the name — and when they grow up all the way, Waterskimming Pond Beetles lay their eggs inside."

"Excellent!" Snape praised. "Do you remember what Pond Beetles are used for?"

Sarah scrunched up her nose. "You have to flatten them, which is gross, and then use them in a golden cauldron."

"Yes, in a variant of Felix Felicis. What other potion can they be used in?"

They hadn't made one which used them, Sarah knew that. It wasn't on the list for this year's potions, and she hadn't studied. "Well, they _can_ be used instead of Redwing Beetle eyes in the Goosepimple Potion but that only works if you're Patrick Fawley."

Snape threw back his head and laughed.

Aldbar explained to Robert that Fawley was a mischievous though quite clever boy in Sarah's year, while Sarah let out a breath she hadn't known she was holding. She'd done all right. "Is the exam going to be like that, Professor Snape?" she wondered.

Snape shook his head. "No, much as I'd like it to be. You'll be brewing a potion from start to finish, though you won't know which one until you enter the examination room, and you won't be allowed your books."

 _I'll have to know how to make every potion on the list without a recipe!_ "Oh dear."

He smirked. "You'd best prepare well, Miss Williams."

Robert gently squeezed Sarah's shoulder. "It sounds like you really know your Potions. I'm so proud of you." Sarah smiled up at him. "Professors, would you like to come over to our house for dinner tonight?"

Aldbar and Snape traded glances. "We'd be honored," Aldbar said.

The group made another circuit around the path before leaving. The Williams car was the only one in the parking lot, which made Robert ask how the two wizards got there.

"We Apparated," Snape explained. "There's a grove of trees over there which provide enough cover."

"Oh, I keep forgetting about magic." Robert unlocked the car and Sarah climbed inside. He gave the professors directions to their house and set a time. Sarah waved them goodbye and they returned it.

Well, Aldbar returned it. Snape gave another little salute, which made Sarah laugh.

When their guests arrived a few hours later, she greeted them with the smile Mum had used in her parties, the gracious hostess smile. She'd cleaned the whole house (the living room, dining room, bathroom, and the hallway, to be precise) while Robert had cooked, and she felt quite grown up.

Dinner was delicious — Dad had burned the potatoes again — and Sarah enjoyed listening to the conversations. It turned out Snape's father had worked in the same mill that had burned down, and whose owners had hired Robert Williams. They talked fine points of insurance claims while Aldbar amused Sarah by making her napkin into the shape of a swan, which he then directed with his wand to fly around the room. When they left, Sarah felt wrung out but in a good way.

She was growing up, and the adults in her life were noticing!

She danced a little and flailed happily before burrowing into her bedsheets that night. Now she just had to do all her work correctly, and make her father proud. She'd be the best in all her classes — especially Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts.

 _Selwyn won't know what hit him,_ she thought.

She smiled.

* * *

 _A/N: Well, there you go. June 4, 2017, which is only...9 days after the last chapter. I'm doing better. And I love the title of this chapter, by the way. It fits so perfectly. And while I was fleshing out this chapter, Jareth decided to drop himself into the middle and it made me smile; he and Sarah are closer than I expected them to be at this point.  
_

 _Also, that scene was influenced by a Labyrinth story called Return to the Labyrinth: Dreamcatcher by Gaeliceyes. It's unfinished (last updated Feb 2015, which is a shame) but it involves a Sarah who accidentally bargained away her dreams and returns to the Labyrinth to get them back, only in disguise. When she first meets Jareth, he assumes she's one of the mortal dreams, and is quite puzzled as to why she's sticking around. She runs circles around him, drives him half mad, it's beautiful._

 _Anyway, what I took away from that story was first of all the existence of Aboveground dreams in physical form, some of which find their way to the Underground, where Jareth watches over them until they fade. He gets a specific kind of magic/power he doesn't usually get, they get a place to live for a little while, everyone's happy. I'm picturing him sensing Sarah dreaming herself into the Labyrinth, assuming it was Tansy-who-is-also-Rose-and-will-probably-get-some-other-plant/flower-name, and flying over only to discover an 11-year old girl in her nightie who proceeds to compliment him, seems to know a lot about him and also insults him without fear. Of course she's mortal, he figures._

 _:p_

 _I completely made up the honeycomb ferns. And The Skinny Mackerel._

 _(and Severus jauntily saluting people. I don't know where that came from. Have I been reading too much Miraculous Ladybug fanfiction? How on earth am I projecting Adrien onto_ Severus?)

 _So...the cliffhanger wasn't so much unexpected, of course. However, there's still the next chapter - The Jinx - and the epilogue. I'm wondering if people have forgotten the Prologue. *evil grin* Would mentioning it be a spoiler? It probably is. If you've forgotten, you may "enjoy" my surprise at the end of the next chapter._

 _..._

 _Or you could go back and re-read it._


	12. The Jinx

_A/N: Ha. So, I learned something new about myself: the best way to get me to procrastinate is promise I'm going to do it sooner rather than later. Which is honestly not that much of a surprise, but…well. I am so sorry this took so long; I had the latter part all written and had no idea what to do for the first part, so it's a little disjointed. How do you write the passage of time without doing it in bite size pieces, how I ask you._

 _A huge thank you goes out to everyone who commented; I appreciate all my guilt monkeys very much._

 _Shoutout to Mahina, who pointed out that Snape should have been if not in full-out depression, still deeply mourning Lily, especially since he'd kind of made up with James Potter and was friends with all of them. That is an excellent plot hole I hadn't even noticed, and…um…I'll maybe write something in the Professor Snape series of oneshots focusing on Severus? Maybe that's why Aldbar was in Cokeworth, checking up on his protege? Getting him out of the house to go look at plants? Yeah let's go with that. [ooh, just got an idea.]_

 _Without further ado, the chapter:_

* * *

Sarah returned to Hogwarts full of enthusiastic hope. She had reunited with Andrea and Caroline at Platform 9 3/4, and spent the journey chattering away about everything that had happened. The three girls giggled and waved at Professors Aldbar and Snape before regarding the Hourglasses with grim determination.

Slytherin was still winning.

"All right," Andrea said firmly. "We're going to win."

Caroline laughed lightly. "Does it really matter that much?"

Andrea and Sarah looked at her in shock. Of _course_ it mattered!

An awfully familiar shape cast their shadows on the Hourglasses and the three girls turned to see Olthom's gang grinning at them. "What do you think about Slytherin now?" Olthom asked.

"That we're going to beat them," Andrea declared, tossing her head. "We still have til the end of the year, you know."

Lorrie Umbridge tittered. "Oh, but you are quite far behind. Perhaps you need some assistance in catching up?"

Sarah's eyes flashed. "I don't need help from someone who got _detention_ from Snape for three months, thank you." She turned on her heel and strode up the hallway with her head held high. She could hear Caroline and Andrea rushing to catch up and she held back a smile at the picture they must be making.

* * *

Sarah found — somewhat to her disappointment — that the novelty of her story had worn off and most of the students had forgotten about it entirely. She did not miss the overwhelming scrutiny but Sarah thought she would have liked to have the chance to talk about Linda Williams to her schoolmates. Sometimes Professor Aldbar would watch her for a little while, and when she noticed he would smile before turning away. She rather enjoyed the feeling of sharing a memory with such a revered figure.

* * *

In her quest to bring as many points to Gryffindor as possible, Sarah strove to do as well as she could in all her classes. This meant, however, that to gain points in Defense Against the Dark Arts was to gain points for Avery — and therefore Slytherin — as well. Oftentimes after class they would frown at each other. "Well, nothing for it," Avery would mutter. "Thanks for the help, Williams."

"I appreciate your assistance," Sarah would grumble back, and they would stew the entire way to their next classes, trying desperately to think of a way around Aldbar's clever rules.

(there wasn't one)

* * *

As before, most of the bullying had stopped, but the students were still spiteful and insulted each other at every turn. Wilkes had grown more bitter over the Easter hols, and did not lash out as much as he had before. In his place, Lorrie Umbridge, Olthom, and Selwyn carried on much as ever.

Selwyn in particular seemed to have it out for Sarah. His offensive spells in DADA were always cast at Sarah and Avery, he always commented on her sloppy potions, and he would trip her in the corridors when the teachers weren't looking.

Sarah, of course, snapped right back. She took her resolution from Easter seriously, and while she wasn't the top of the class — that right went to Patrick Fawley, aggravatingly enough — she was definitely one of the best students. She studied hard for her Potions exam, practiced her spells with the other Gryffindors, and busied herself with her other classes.

The same could not be said for Gilderoy Lockhart.

One fine morning while the students were enjoying one of the last Quidditch matches, Sarah felt a ripple go through the stands. Snape shot to his feet. Aldbar grabbed his wand and McGonagall snapped her gaze across the Quidditch pitch to where the Ravenclaws sat.

 _I wonder what spell that was?_

Then, in midair above the grounds, a giant face slowly revealed itself. It looked almost like the clouds were uncoiling, stretching and curling into the familiar appearance of—

"Lockhart?" Sarah squinted. It was indeed Gilderoy Lockhart's face floating above the Quidditch pitch, his odd white smile nearly forty feet long, the sparkle in his eye nearly blinding. _He certainly has a high opinion of himself._ Sarah laughed a little, though it was more annoying than amusing. She wanted to see who would win the match, and he was interrupting.

 _"GILDEROY LOCKHART!"_ Snape thundered from the teacher's stands, and later students would swear on Merlin's unmentionables that he hadn't used magic to amplify his voice but had _still_ managed to be heard by everyone. Snape swept through the rows of seats, black robes billowing behind him. "Detention _every day_ for the _rest of the year!"_

"That's a little harsh," Sarah commented.

"He's probably trying to help Slytherin's chances by putting a Ravenclaw in detention," Andrea mused.

The students watched Snape flick his wand at the charm in the sky, causing it to fade away, before dragging Lockhart to the castle.

Later it transpired that Lockhart had not, in fact, created a new charm with which to amaze his fellow students, but had modified an existing charm, _Morsmorde._

The Dark Mark, to be specific, which explained Severus Snape's fury.

Part of Sarah was grudgingly impressed, but most of her remembered seeing the writhing Mark above the Cokeworth Theater, above so many pictures in the Daily Prophet. She had occasional bad dreams about it, and she was horrified that the seventh year had even tried to use such an awful thing.

(And part of her, too, whispered the name once and thought the syllables turned nicely in her mouth)

* * *

Exams rolled around, with all the mad chaos it induced. Madam Pomphrey was nearly overwhelmed with hysteric students in desperate need of Draughts of Peace, Fawley managed to trick himself into helping Snape brew more potions for the Infirmary, rumor had it Grace Willaton knew what would be on the Astronomy quiz, Madam Pince could be heard demanding students be silent in the Library, Peeves and the Bloody Baron wrestled through the halls more often than not, and Professor Binns didn't appear to notice when one of his students fainted in the middle of a lesson.

Sarah had prepared well. She was ready.

She felt she'd done well on her tests — Transfiguration and Charms went easily enough, and History of Magic was of course just a matter of remembering dates and names.

That was…not Sarah's strongest point, to say the least. She _thought_ she'd done all right, but then she'd gone over her books and realized that she may have confused Elbric and Emeric.

For Astronomy they had to fill out star charts, but they had been doing that all year so it was a breeze— or maybe it was because Sarah liked the names of the stars.

Sarah wondered if perhaps Professor McKinnon hadn't given very strenuous exams this year because of what had happened to her family.

For Herbology Professor Sprout revealed that she'd been grading them the entire year, which sent more than a few students into panic before she explained that they'd all passed. Some — Teresa Rosslyn — had nearly killed their plants but still mustered a passing grade due to "hard work, effort, and enthusiasm."

The Potions exam arrived and Sarah found she had been _blessedly_ over-prepared. She'd memorized every potion on the syllabus and he'd used the first one the class had learned! She was frowning as she left, nearly running into Snape outside the exam hall.

"I trust you performed admirably, Miss Williams?" he drawled softly.

Sarah studied him for a moment, but his expression gave away nothing. "Was it a trick test?" she burst out.

One black eyebrow rose. "Did it feel particularly tricky?'

"But it was so _easy_! I must have missed something."

Snape smirked. "Perhaps." And he would say nothing more than that, no matter how much she pleaded. "You will learn your exam scores before next year, Miss Williams."

* * *

Far different from each test was the DADA exam. The first-years were let into a huge room with 8 tables. By instinct, the Gryffindor-Slytherin class gravitated to stand with their normal seat-mates, while the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws stayed in their own groups. All seven years had been trying to figure out how he would teach his last lesson and on what they would be graded since the Easter holidays. The students muttered amongst themselves, peering at the tables for clues. Professor Aldbar surveyed them evenly from the front of the room. He seemed to be waiting for something.

Sarah rocked back and forth on her heels. "Do you think we're going to duel as part of the test?" she asked Avery.

Her partner made a sound of disagreement. "Seems almost too obvious, don't you think? Besides which, that wouldn't explain the tables."

"Maybe we'll be dissecting _you_ on it," Selwyn muttered nastily from beside them, and was promptly hushed by members of his House.

The doors opened and the whispers came to an abrupt halt, the students peering around with interest. Professor McGonagall walked in, followed by Professor Flitwick, Professor Sprout, and lastly by Professor Snape.

Patrick Fawley hummed delightedly. "Now _that's_ interesting."

Aldbar cleared his throat. Attention swung from the other teachers to him with all the speed of a class that had learned to scrutinize everything he did. "For the last ten months," the old Auror began, "I have taught you to work together, to ask for help and accept it, to keep on your toes, and to embrace new ways of thinking with people you do not know so well."

Sarah blinked. She'd been there for all of those lessons, obviously, but she hadn't quite summed up what he'd been teaching them like that.

Avery chuckled to himself. "And here I thought it was just how to keep another war from happening."

Professor Aldbar raised his chin. "For this exam, you will be graded on your knowledge of the spells and material I have taught you over the year, along with how well you have learned—"

"Defense Against Idiocy, and remedial Basic Human Decency?" Fawley interrupted.

Aldbar grinned. "Aye." The students chuckled, remembering the very first lesson. "Now, I'm going to pair each of you off into groups of four, one from each House. The groups will take a table, and I will explain the test."

Christopher Lowell raised his hand. "Professor, there's an uneven number of us."

"I am perfectly able to count to thirty-three on my own, Mr Lowell, thank you. The last student will join the last group." Aldbar pulled a scroll out of his robes and began to read from it. "Barrett, Brockden, Crawford, Avery, table 1." Avery joined the other three students in question and gathered around the small table. They appeared unable to touch anything on it, much to their interest. "Caran, Honeysett, Elberic, Crouch, table 2." And so it went down the list. Andrea was paired with Aurelia Ingram (along with Philomela Nightingale and Eugenia Faramond) much to their delight. Teresa Rosslyn could be heard complaining about "random alphabetizing" as she went to stand beside a grinning Patrick Fawley.

 _Why is Williams so far down in the alphabet?_

Sarah shifted her weight, waiting to see what the last group would be. Right as she was counting off names, Percival Selwyn let out a harsh laugh. "Looks like it's you and me, Williams." Sarah stared at him.

Aldbar rattled off, "Nelson, Venwood, Verena, Mariner, table 7. Sorbius, Walton, Willaton, Selwyn, Williams, table 8."

Sarah exhaled. _We have to work together for a grade. We have to each do our best to get a good mark_ , she told herself as she made her way with the other four to the last table. It was covered in something that reminded her of a force field from the sci-fi shows on the telly she and her father would watch. She couldn't see through it.

"I want an Outstanding," Selwyn informed the group. "You're all going to have to do your best."

Halvard Sorbius and Sarah traded looks. Selwyn usually thought much more highly of himself than was warranted. Grace Willaton, whom Sarah knew from the study sessions in the library, brushed her red hair behind her ears. "Of course we'll do our best," she said. Lancelot Walton nodded.

Professor Aldbar clapped his hands. "Each table is covered in a different enchantment. Once you lift it, you will find various artifacts, items, and clues, perhaps even a few poorly-written riddles. You will have to decode these in order to find your final objective, which is different on each table."

Sarah frowned. "How is that a Defense test?" she wondered aloud.

"Furthermore," Aldbar added, "you will be defending yourself and your teammates the entire time."

Silence fell.

"I shouldn't need to tell you that you will have to work together to accomplish this task, but I will anyway. Professors McGonagall, Flitwick, Sprout, and Snape will be assisting me in monitoring you, both individually and as a team. You have one hour." Aldbar conjured a large clock and nodded at the class. "Begin." The second hand moved forward.

A blur of red light streaked past Sarah and fizzled against the floor. She looked up and saw a swirling mass of red above the table. _"Protego!"_ she cast over Selwyn, just in time to catch the red spell. Over the other tables she saw similar red lights, all of which were shooting out spells in random intervals at the tables. "Well at least they don't rebound," she muttered.

"You keep doing that," Selwyn ordered. "Willaton, you help me lift this enchantment."

Sarah huffed. "We're a team, not a—"

"Yes, okay," Lancelot Walton said quickly. "I'll help guard for now."

Grace Willaton ran her wand over the shield. "This looks familiar."

Sarah cast another protection spell and felt it pull at her energy. She ran over the different spells they had learned. Which were easier to cast?

 _"Averto,"_ Walton murmured beside her. The red light veered off course and faded into the air. "It's more of a deflection spell, costs less energy," he explained. Between bursts of light he showed her how to cast it, then explained it to Halvard Sorbius.

 _"Finite Incantatem,"_ Selwyn muttered. The shield didn't change. "Worth a shot anyway."

"If it's an enchantment, then it has to have a target," Grace reasoned.

Selwyn flicked his wand at the table. "It's something on the desk."

"Under the enchantment? How are we supposed to get to it?"

The red mass shot out two spells at once and Sarah cast _Protego_ without thinking. The shield arched over the five of them and flickered with the red spells.

Sorbius squinted at it. "…would those pierce the enchantment? Wear it down like hexes on a Shield Charm?"

Selwyn scoffed. "They could, along with everything else on the table that we need."

"I think it's an _Operculum Caecus_ ," Grace announced. "It's usually anchored to something refined, like metal, and it spreads an obscuring shield over an area set by the caster."

"Oh, I know a spell for that!" Walton exclaimed. He flicked his wand over the table and beneath the shield a small metal bowl appeared, glowing red briefly before the shield spell faded away. The five students cheered. They took in the contents of the table with great interest: a scroll, bound with a wax seal; a small letter opener; the small metal bowl; an inkwell; a potion vial with a swirling red liquid; and what appeared to be a completely normal twig.

Distracted, Sarah let one of the red spells get past her, and it struck Selwyn on the hand. He cursed and shook his hand. "I'm sorry!" she said hurriedly, getting her wand into position quickly. She glanced to the front to see if Aldbar had noticed her slip, but his expression gave nothing away.

"Keep an eye out, Mu—ggleborn," Selwyn snapped.

Sarah glared at him. She knew what he'd been about to say.

"Guys, let's keep our focus," Grace pleaded.

Sarah and Walton resumed their position deflecting the red stinging spells. The other three students examined the things on the table. Sorbius picked up the scroll and moved to break the seal.

"Wait!" Selwyn warned.

The Gryffindor rolled his eyes. "I'll be fine."

"No," Sarah started, "not in one of Aldbar's—"

Sorbius broke the seal and a fine white powder burst in his face. He coughed, dropping the scroll.

His four teammates stared at him for a moment.

Sarah and Walton absently flicked a red spell away.

"I, uh, hope that wasn't poisonous," Selwyn said. He didn't sound like he meant it.

Grace used the sleeve of her robes to wipe away some of the powder. "Does it hurt?"

Sorbius shook his head, then froze. "I can't see!" he shouted.

"Oh Merlin," Selwyn muttered. "Let me look at you."

"I don't need your help!"

Sarah took a deep breath. "Yes, actually, you do."

"Forty-five minutes!" Aldbar called from the front.

Selwyn sighed and looked carefully at Sorbius' eyes. "It's probably crushed Scurlock root. We just need to flush it with water." He picked up the metal bowl and cast a spell over it. He snorted, the corner of his mouth turning up. "Oh, that would have been terrible."

"What?" Grace asked.

"A curse, makes any liquid in this turn into vinegar. How thoughtful of our teachers to assume one of us would need a bowl of water." He flicked his wand over the rim of the bowl and something vaguely yellow seemed to rise from it. " _Aguamenti,"_ he intoned, and a small stream of water filled the bowl. "There. Willaton, you clean his eyes with that. I'm going to look at the scroll closer."

After a minute or two, he grunted. "Would have needed to break it with force anyway, just could have been ready with a spell to catch the bespelled trap." He unrolled it and deflated. "Hey Willaton, how are your Ancient Runes?"

"Um, okay I guess?"

"Great. Decode that."

"But I don't speak—"

"Just do it! Walton," Selwyn barked, "you were able to sense the metal bowl on the table, right?"

"Yeah, it's a—"

"Good; is there anything about the twig you noticed?"

"I don't have a—"

"Hey," Walton said, "let's be kind, all right?"

Sarah flicked a red spell away. "My arm's getting tired; can you switch with me, Sorbius?"

"No! You keep deflecting those spells, Williams, since you're so _wonderful_ at defensive magic."

Sorbius made an angry noise. "You're not the boss, Selwyn, we're a team."

"Well I don't see anyone else with any better ideas! Willaton, what does that scroll say?"

Grace slammed it down on the table. "I don't know; I just started reading it thirty seconds ago!"

"Then read faster!"

Sarah glared up at the red twirling mass. She was strongly tempted to let one sting Selwyn again, but decided against it. "If you want to be the leader," she said, "you have to listen to your teammates."

"Don't tell me what to do."

Sorbius groaned. "Oh for the love of Merlin— Selwyn, you're wasting time."

"Then stop fighting me!"

"We'll get a better grade if we do this quickly," Sarah said, "but we'll get the best grade if we do it together."

Selwyn snarled. "We _are_ doing it together, I'm telling you what to do so we're all doing something at the same time!"

"That's not together," Grace muttered.

Sarah cast the strongest Shield Charm she could and let it catch the red spells as she faced her classmate. "Look, you're cunning and the best at figuring things out, right?" Selwyn opened his mouth as if to contradict her, then stopped, confused. "And you were doing pretty good until you started ignoring us. You have to keep your information current; you have to pay attention to what we're actually doing. I'm not so good at runes, but I am pretty good with potions, and we need to figure that out."

Again Selwyn looked like he wanted to say something angry, but he saw Snape watching them and closed his mouth. He sighed heavily. "Fine. Sorbius, Walton, _please_ focus on defense. Willaton, keep at the scroll, and I'll help you. Williams, you focus on the potion. All right?"

"All right," everyone agreed.

Selwyn rolled his eyes.

Sarah looked at the potion carefully. She'd never seen anything like it before, although the red color looked almost familiar.

"Okay," Grace said, "I think this scroll is actually a cipher. It's really neat; the letters are shifted according to the—"

"That's nice," Selwyn interrupted. "What's it say?"

 _What did we_ just say _about ignoring your team?_

"Merlin's beard!" Walton exclaimed. They looked up and saw what looked like a bulldog with wings flying towards them.

"What the—"

"Well I guess he didn't say we'd _only_ be defending against red stinging spells," Sarah said.

* * *

By the time the exam was over, they'd determined that the potion was actually ink, and they were to transfigure the twig into a quill pen and use the ink to write the spell from the scroll onto the letter opener, which when done correctly would allow it to deactivate the stinging spells. All of this had to be done while fending off the increasingly dangerous attacks of the Bullgriff. They ended up with a few scratches but turned out mostly okay, especially once Walton accidentally learned it liked tummy scratches and half-tamed it.

Sarah was beaming. "That was fun!"

Selwyn sneered at her, straightening his robes. "I could have done well, if I'd been paired with better wizards. I'd better get an Outstanding."

The four students watched him saunter out of the exam room. "He'll be lucky if he gets an Acceptable," Grace muttered.

Drusilla and Avery met them at the door. "We were disappointed there wasn't a duel as part of the test," Drusilla said, "so we—"

"Decided to organize our own," Avery finished. "We're meeting in the courtyard after lunch."

Sarah curled her fingers around her wand and her eyes brightened. "That sounds _perfect_."

"But we aren't allowed to use magic in the corridors," Grace interjected.

"Ah," Patrick Fawley said, throwing an arm around her shoulder, "but the courtyard isn't a _corridor,_ now is it?"

Kimball Lee followed a step behind. "Besides, this was the last class. What are they going to do, put us in detention for an hour?"

* * *

The student duels were a huge hit, with older students joining them as their DADA exams finished. Apparently Aldbar had complex puzzles set up for each year, and everyone missed the opportunity to duel each other.

They sketched out a circle in the center of the courtyard and the rules were simple: knock your opponent out of the ring.

Sarah outdid herself. Her last duel was against Selwyn, and he seemed too angry to think clearly. His face had twisted in rage and she had simply cast the Knockback Jinx and pushed him across the line. "Guess a Mudblood beat you after all," she teased.

(She'd regret it later, of course, but at the time she absolutely relished the pained flash on his face.)

* * *

At the End-of-Term Feast, the students entered the Great Hall and saw green and silver banners hanging on the walls. Three quarters of them took their seats with a quiet, subdued air. Slytherin House ate maybe half their food, too busy looking at the evidence of their victory with astonished delight.

When Dumbledore rose to award the House Cup, everyone was silent: the Slytherins in expectation, and the other three Houses in defeat. "I want to congratulate each and every one of you," the Headmaster said. "You have fought hard and fought _well_ to earn the Cup, and I wish I could award it to all four Houses. However, there is a points system for a reason. With three hundred forty-five points, Ravenclaw." He allowed a short time for them to clap. "With three hundred seventy-two points, Gryffindor." Sarah cheered but then realized that this meant they'd actually come in third. "With three hundred ninety-six, Hufflepuff."

Dumbledore smiled. "And in first place, with four hundred thirteen points, Slytherin."

Despite their disappointment over losing, almost everyone clapped. No one had gotten over four hundred points in _decades_ of House Cup history. It was impressive.

(and going to be thoroughly trounced next year, Gryffindor silently decided)

Snape and Aldbar stood up, clapping for their House. Aldbar turned to Snape, and Sarah thought she saw the younger man give him a shaky smile, saying, I told you we could do it. Aldbar enfolded Snape in a bear hug, which made the students laugh, and gave his House the biggest, proudest smile Sarah had ever seen.

One of the seventh-years was smiling. "So much for the jinx on the DADA position," they said happily.

* * *

Sarah returned home, promising to write her friends, thankful that she had found a place to hone her talents and eager to read all she could for her second year. She'd been quite pleased with her marks: Exceeds Expectations in everything except Defense Against the Dark Arts, where she had earned an Outstanding. She had, truth be told, been even more pleased to see that Selwyn had earned an Acceptable in Defense. He'd glared at her as though it was her fault, scribbling fiercely on a piece of parchment as though writing down everything he didn't like about her.

Sarah was confident in her abilities as a witch, and expected to enjoy the summer at home with her father and no one else.

Her homecoming was a bit of a shock. Her father waved to her from the train station with one hand, the other laid about the shoulders of a tall woman with light brown hair, who was waving to Sarah as well.

Sarah's world changed again with one sentence. "This is Irene."

* * *

Irene, Sarah thought, was a stuck-up woman who would be a good villain in a fairytale. Furthermore, as a Muggle-born witch herself, Irene was perfectly capable of actually having Robert under a spell. Surely he would never leave Sarah in the house alone for a date otherwise. She was hiding out on the couch, stubbornly staying up way past the time she had agreed to be in bed. If _they_ could stay up late, why couldn't _she_? She'd long given up on reading, content with lying on the couch with all the lights turned off and feeling sorry for herself.

When a quiet _pop_ sounded in the kitchen, Sarah thought nothing of it, burrowing even further into the blanket which she had stolen from her father's bedroom as another act of defiance.

But when she heard the sound of someone running into a chair followed by a hissed oath involving certain parts of Merlin's anatomy, Sarah realized something was very wrong.

There was a wizard in her house.

Instantly Sarah thought of her wand, lying on her nightstand, upstairs in her bedroom. She rose as quietly as she could, untangling herself from the blanket and stuffing it on the couch. She tip-toed around the sofa and to the base of the stairs, thankful for all her nocturnal wanderings.

She heard the creak of a floorboard in the dining room, another hissed oath, and a quiet _"Lumos,"_ and she crawled up the stairs as fast as she could without making a sound.

 _Wand, wand, get the wand,_ she thought, arriving in her room at last. She dodged the pile of toys by the door and slipped around the pile of stuffed animals she had used to re-enact Arthur's Last Battle earlier that day. The blinds were drawn on her windows, letting in only a dim glow from the street-lamp, but it was enough to distinguish the outline of the nightstand. She cooped up her wand, turned on her heel, pointed it at the door, and froze.

 _What do I do?_

The stairs creaked and her face drained of color. The wizard was on her stairs. _He's coming for me_ , she realized. She'd managed to find the worst room to be in. He knew where she was, where she should be sleeping. Sarah looked at the bed and realized he would expect to find her in it. A wild plan coursed through her mind and she flew into silent, panicked motion. She grabbed one of her extra pillows, stuffed it under the blankets, and ducked down beside her dresser, as far away from both the window and the door as she could be.

The old worn spot in the hallway that she knew to avoid creaked ominously. She held her breath and peered at her doorway. Her eyes had gotten used to the dark by now, and she could see the dim glow of his wand-lighting charm. It grew brighter, illuminating the white paint of the hallway opposite her door. _"Finite,"_ he whispered. The glow disappeared. She saw a dark shadow appear, tall broad shoulders with black robes and a silver mask that glinted in the dim orange glow of the street-lamp.

 _A Death Eater,_ Sarah thought, biting her finger to keep from whimpering. Somehow, she knew without a doubt that this was one, that he was here for her, and that if she had been asleep, he would have killed her. She watched him raise his wand, pointing to her bed, and heard a gruff voice growl, _"Crucio!"_

Sarah had heard of that curse, dim whispers of Marcellus and Andrea, talking about the three Unforgivable curses and the Death Eaters who used them. She had heard of it, imagined it being turned on her, but had never thought it really would.

 _Coward,_ Sarah thought, biting her finger even harder. He'd tried to use the torturing curse on her in her sleep. The spell struck her pillow for a good two seconds before he lowered his wand. "Out of bed so late, Mudblood?" he sneered. Something in his voice sounded familiar but she wasn't sure what it was and was derailed completely from thinking about it when he jabbed his wand at her closet. _"Incendio!"_ Her clothes burst into flames and Sarah gasped.

The sound made it past her fingers and the Death Eater heard.

He whirled to face her and though she knew he couldn't actually see her— she had her back to the wall and the light, and could barely see him— her heart raced even harder. She hadn't thought this far. What to do now? She was going to be facing him, fighting him— _duelling a Death Eater_ — and she tried to remember what Aldbar had taught them.

 _Know when to run away._

She couldn't— he was between her and the door.

 _Don't pick a fight you can't win._

She hadn't— he had started it.

 _Trust your instincts._

Her instincts weren't much good at the moment. They were telling her to get away, and she _would,_ just as soon as she could. But right now he was raising his wand, pointing it a foot from where she really was. _"Reducto!"_ Her dresser shattered into splinters and _now_ her instincts worked, pulling her to the side and raising her wand. A spell came to her lips and she cast.

 _"Expelliarmus!"_

He knocked it aside with ease. "Percival says you beat his score in Dark Arts," he spat. "I wonder how, if that's the best you can do?"

 _Percival?_ Sarah wondered. The orange glow of the flames in her closet could tell her nothing about the dark-robed figure of nightmares. _Flames. Fire._ " _Incendio,"_ she blurted, flicking her wand at the Death Eater. His sleeve caught fire and she used his distraction to scramble out of the splintered mess of her dresser and behind the mirror. _Need help, need someone to help, but how?_ She knew Aldbar lived somewhere in Cokeworth, and that he had promised to look after her, so she knew he would be watching somehow. Perhaps he had a ward on the house, to notify him of Dark curses. _But why didn't he notice the Cruciatus? Because it didn't hit me?_ She needed a curse she could cast, that was Dark enough for him to notice, that anyone who saw the house would notice, and that would set off any alarms he might have.

That anyone who saw the house would notice.

She looked at the window. She knew the rules. Muggles— her neighbors— were not supposed to know about magic. She couldn't use magic in front of them.

 _"Reducto!"_ Her bed exploded, wood chips flying everywhere. _"Diffindo!"_ Her pillow burst at the steams, feathers flying everywhere, and she had the sudden thought that the Slicing Hex could be used on people— on _her._

 _Screw the Statute of Secrecy._

She pointed her wand at the window.

 _"Morsmorde!"_

A green light burst into being outside the window. The Death Eater let out an outraged cry and dashed forward, ripping the blinds down to see outside. Sarah ducked out from behind the mirror and dashed out the door.

"How dare you?" the Death Eater bellowed. "That is my _master's_ Mark— _how dare you?!_ "

Sarah didn't answer, heard him stomping towards her, knew she didn't have time to make it downstairs and out the door, and ducked behind the big potted plant at the top of the landing. _Distract him,_ she thought, and picked up one of the pebbles in the pot and threw it downstairs. It clattered against the wall and fell against the floor out of sight.

The Death Eater burst out of her room and cast a _Reducto_ at the noise. The wall splintered and Sarah held her breath as he ran past her, taking the steps two at a time. "Come here, little Mudblood!" he crooned in a sick parody of a child playing hide-and-seek. "Come see what happens to anyone who thinks themselves better than a pureblood, better than my son…"

Sarah didn't move. Was this about her beating Selwyn in DADA? Or Avery? Her eyes widened. Avery. Jupiter Avery was on the run, keeping away from the Aurors. No one knew where he was, though some claimed to have seen him all over the world. _I know where he is; h_ _e's in my living room,_ Sarah thought, half-hysterically.

 _CRACK!_

Sarah jumped at the loud sound— Apparition, she realized— and bit her knuckle once again to keep from making a sound. Who was this now? Another of Avery's friends?

"Protecting Mudbloods, are we, Aldbar?" Avery taunted.

"The innocent," Aldbar corrected, and Sarah relaxed. Professor Aldbar was here. She stood up as Avery and Aldbar began dueling. Her DADA professor was in fine form, trading spells and deflecting curses with a grace that made it seem easy. A slashing hex missed Aldbar and cut into the doorway, followed by a jet of green flames. The railing caught fire, illuminating the living room below. She could see the two of them, the old Auror and the younger Death Eater, dodging curses and casting spells. This was a wizard's duel.

Then Avery saw her.

He turned on his heel and _popped_ into thin air, appearing right in front of her. She screamed and stepped back, holding her wand in front of her. She hit the plant and stumbled. The moment gave Avery time to raise his wand. "You're going to die, Mudblood," he growled.

Several things happened nearly simultaneously. There was a loud _crack_ below. Avery barked, _"Avada Kedavra!"_ A bolt of sickly green shot from Avery's wand, heading for Sarah, and she knew it would hit before she could dodge. A shape _cracked_ into being between hear and the curse. Aldbar shouted, _"Expelliarmus!"_ A red light struck Avery, sending him back, even as Avery's Killing Curse struck Aldbar in the chest. He hung in the air for a moment before crumpling to floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

The flames crackled.

Avery got to his feet, staring at the body on the floor. His mask had fallen off with Aldbar's spell— the last he ever cast, Sarah thought and her heart twisted— and now Avery's lips curled into a victorious sneer. Though his face resembled Avery, the sneer reminded her of Selwyn.

Sarah's wand was still pointed at Avery, though it hadn't done much good. The green flames of the railing flickered against Aldbar's still form. Professor Aldbar was dead. Professor Aldbar…

Avery began to step forward. His face twisted, and Sarah was back in the classroom, facing Selwyn.

Sarah's wand flicked in the most familiar defense spell she knew, and her lips formed the words she had formed countless times before.

 _"Impedimenta!"_

It was the best Knockback Jinx she had ever cast. Avery flew back, slammed into the railing, crashed through it, and fell to the floor. There was a cry and a dull thud and a crack which echoed in the dark house.

The flames crackled.

Sarah breathed.

Beyond that, all was silent.

* * *

 _A/N: Hoo boy. There we are. That last scene is one of the first I ever wrote for this story, and all I had of this chapter when I started editing. How did I do? Was it surprising while still built on a believable foundation? I know it was written in the prologue, but I wanted to carry a thread of Avery and Selwyn so this didn't come out of nowhere. I suppose when Janus Avery decided against following his father's teachings, Selwyn continued writing to his related-in-some-way-due-to-pureblood-intermarriage, Jupiter Avery. Cause hey. Avery Sr is never mentioned as participating in the second war, which means he either died in prison or in a battle, and I thought 'well gee why don't i have him kill aldbar' and here we are. Won't next year be interesting._

 _And Irene. Hello, future stepmother._

 _And regarding Gilderoy Lockhart: apparently he really did do that. I'd already written Sarah casting Morsmorde and decided that this would be a good way for her to know the spell. I completely made up the DADA exam, along with most of the spells mentioned. I had already written out the names of the first-year student roster, and when I went to pair them off I was pleasantly surprised to find Ivy and Arachne Mariner together, along with Teresa and Patrick, and Selwyn and Sarah. Didn't even have to fudge things a little. :)_

 _I've got a very short epilogue planned after this, and we'll see where I go after that._

 _Again, thank you all so so very much for sticking with this and my horribly slow updates. I really appreciate each and every one of you - follow, favorite, or review, I adore them all._

 _(And I've got a marvelous, awful headcanon for what Umbridge did to deserve detention, if anyone wants to guess on it. I'm thinking maybe Avery gets the story from Selwyn and shares it with Sarah in their sixth year or so?_

 _Also, fifty House points for anyone who knows which fandom Rosslyn, Caran, Willaton, Lee, and Fawley came from.)_

 _(Aug 1, 2017)_


	13. Epilogue

It was Professor Snape who found Sarah first. She hardly noticed, crouched as she was over Professor Aldbar, whispering to herself. "Harry Potter survived it, and he was just a baby; it's possible; you can survive it too."

Snape knelt beside her and it was the oddity of him wearing Muggle jeans that finally arrested her attention. She tore her gaze from Aldbar's sightless eyes and stared in a dull stupor at Snape in a button down and a crooked black leather coat. His features were somehow softer, even in the dark shadows of her house. He looked at her as though he cared, but with pity.

He looked at her the way her father had when he told her Mum was dead.

"A baby can survive the Killing Curse," she insisted with all the certainty of an 11-year-old girl. She sniffed to clear her nose – her words sounded strange – and asked in confusion, "Why can't Professor Aldbar?"

Snape rested his wand gently on Aldbar's forehead, whispering a spell Sarah didn't know. A soft yellow light flickered from the end of his wand, moving over Aldbar's body — Aldbar — like one of those scanners at the supermarket. Snape's shoulders fell, and Sarah sniffed again. "No," she said.

"I'm sorry," Snape murmured. "He's gone."

"But he— he's a _hero_! He _saved_ me! He can't— he can't be — He _can't_!" Sarah pushed Snape's shoulder angrily. " _Do_ something! You said you could put a stopper in death, didn't you?"

And Professor Snape wrapped an arm around her shoulders and held her. "Not forever," he said. "And he did save you. That would have meant a lot to him."

To the grizzled old Auror… oh yes, it would have.

Sarah sniffled, turning her head into his chest. A button dug into her cheek and she didn't care. She listened to the flames still crackling around them, felt her fingers digging into her wand. She thought of everything that had happened to bring her here, all the little things from just after her eleventh birthday to now.

It had all started so wonderfully…

"How did you get here?" she wondered suddenly.

"I saw the Mark over your house," said Snape. "I worried—" He broke off and held her closer. "I'm glad you are all right."

Sarah sniffed, adjusting her position. "I cast it," she said quietly. "I remembered how angry you were at Lockhart."

Snape was quiet for a moment. "Clever girl," he murmured at last. He drew back and sighed heavily. "I must tell Albus. We had hoped the jinx didn't—" Again he broke off. He raised his wand. " _Expecto Patronum_ ," he whispered. A silvery white light eased out of his wand before fading away. "Damn it. _Expecto Patronum_!" This time the white mist coalesced into the form of a wildcat.

Snape stared at it for a long moment.

Sarah watched the silver form of the cat cock its head and lash its short tail from side to side. "What spell is that?" When Snape did not answer, she looked up at him. He seemed to be sad, as though the wildcat had stolen something precious from him.

He clenched his teeth and then flicked his wand. "Williams residence, come quickly," he said. The wildcat shook itself and bounded off. "How many times will I lose you?" he said to himself.

"Are you okay?" Sarah asked.

Snape nodded once, harshly. "I'm fine. Let's deal with these flames." He stood and set about dousing the fire, removing the Dark Mark as it still cast its green glow over everything, and flicking the lights on.

Sarah watched everything in a dull stupor. When Dumbledore arrived with McGonagall, she felt numb. The older witch bundled her into a blanket and bustled about preparing tea. She heard Dumbledore and Snape conversing in low tones in the hallway.

"Aldbar must have seen the Mark first," Dumbledore reasoned. "We are fortunate he was able to defeat Avery."

 _Defeat Avery?_

Sarah's brow wrinkled.

"It must have been the last thing he did," said Snape. "They appear to have taken out each other."

Sarah opened her mouth to correct them and stopped. She remembered the chaos of everyone learning about Linda, and the harsh treatment of Hogwarts rumors.

"Poor Janus," Dumbledore said. "And Julius, of course."

Sarah gasped. _Janus Avery_. How could she tell him that she'd killed his father? He was her friend! She couldn't—

McGonagall set a steaming cup of tea in front of her. "There you go, lass. Everything will be all right."

Sarah wrapped her hands around the cup and watched the steam rise in mesmerizing swirls.

 _Yes,_ she decided. _Everything is going to be fine._

* * *

 _A/N: Well then. It's been over a year since I started posting this story, and I have learned a lot about my ability to regularly post chapters - I have no such ability. But I HAVE stayed with it, and it has been so rewarding. I can't wait to get into the rest of Sarah's story. I know a lot of people (myself included, honestly) are eagerly waiting for Jareth and Sarah to interact, and I think I'm going to have a blast posting her Labyrinth. But first, I'm going to do the next three years, except they'll be in all one fic instead of three separate stories. I'll probably drabble my way through most of them? I haven't really written anything for it at all yet, but I have a couple ideas. Obviously the sub-plot of the truth of Avery's death is going to be a big one, and I am probably going to indulge myself by having Loki Odinson be a DADA teacher for one of those years. Haven't figured out the logistics of that one yet, but knowing me it'll happen._

 _Speaking of logistics, if anyone has any ideas for the next three years of Hogwarts, I would be more than happy to hear them. I have only a vague idea of something about the Trace and how it wasn't active over Sarah, and some Ministry employee is trying to figure this out. I want Jane Foster to take over the Astronomy position (hence having Loki Silver be her academic rival because honestly the man needs punched in his pretty face more often) for a couple years before Aurora Sinistra joins the Hogwarts staff._

 _I've got to get Sarah to the point where she wishes away Toby shortly after her fifteenth birthday. This means some sub-plots with Irene and Robert. And it occurred to me that Sarah's going to have such a strong negative reaction to the trauma of Aldbar's death that she's going to change from that alone. She's going to consider herself above all her peers, and I'm going to build on that._

 _also, next year? Bill Weasley attends Hogwarts. So there will be a connection to the Order, even though Sarah won't know it for years._

 _Anyway. Thank you thank you thank you to everyone who read this, a thousand thank yous to everyone who reviewed and commented - and I_ will _be bringing Jareth into the story, never fear, it's just going to take a while. Again, I won't abandon this universe, but in all honesty I update at the approximate speed of a glacier so. There's that._

 _See you later!_


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